SWEETAPPLE 
COVE 


GEORGE  VAN  SCHA1CK 


'v 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 


BY 
GEORGE  VAN  SCHAICK 


WITH  A  FRONTISPIECE  BY 

GEORGE  W.  GAGE 


BOSTON 

SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1914 

BY  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
(Incorporated) 

Second  Printing,  April  1914 


8.  J.  PARKHILL  &  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.S.A. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 


2138673   ' 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

CHAPTER  I 

[From  John  Grant's  Diary 

HAVE  I  shown  wisdom  or  made  an  arrant,  egregi- 
ous fool  of  myself?  This,  I  suppose,  is  a  question 
every  man  puts  to  himself  after  taking  a  sudden 
decision  upon  which  a  great  deal  depends. 

I  have  shaken  the  dust  of  the  great  city  by  the 
Hudson  and  forsaken  its  rich  laboratories,  its  vast 
hospitals,  the  earnest  workers  who  were  begin- 
ning to  show  some  slight  interest  in  me.  It  was 
done  not  after  mature  consideration  but  owing  to 
the  whim  of  a  moment,  to  a  sudden  desire  to 
change  the  trend  of  things  I  felt  I  could  no  longer 
contend  with. 

Now  I  live  in  a  little  house,  among  people  who 
speak  with  an  accent  that  has  become  unfamiliar 
to  the  great  outside  world.  They  have  given  up 


2  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

their  two  best  rooms  to  me,  at  a  rental  so  small 
that  I  am  somewhat  ashamed  to  tender  it,  at  the 
end  of  every  week.  I  also  obtain  the  constant 
care  and  the  pleasant  smiles  of  a  good  old  house- 
wife who  appears  to  take  a  certain  amount  of 
pride  in  her  lodger.  As  far  as  I  know  I  am  the 
only  boarder  in  Sweetapple  Cove,  as  well  as  the 
only  doctor.  For  a  day  or  two  after  my  arrival 
I  accompanied  the  local  parson,  Mr.  Barnett,  on 
visits  to  people  he  considered  to  be  in  need  of  my 
ministrations.  Now  they  are  coming  in  droves, 
and  many  scattered  dwellers  on  the  bleak  coast 
have  heard  of  me.  Little  fishing-smacks  meet- 
ing others  from  farther  outports  have  spread  the 
amazing  news  that  there  is  a  doctor  at  the  Cove. 

With  other  pomps  and  vanities  I  have  given 
up  white  shirts  and  collars,  and  my  recent  pur- 
chases include  oilskins  and  long  boots.  This  is 
fashionable  apparel  here,  and  my  wearing  them 
appears  to  impart  confidence  in  my  ability. 

My  only  reason  for  writing  this  is  that  the 
Barnetts  go  to  bed  early.  Doubtless  I  may  also 
acquire  the  habit,  in  good  time.  Moreover,  there 
is  always  a  danger  of  disturbing  some  important 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  3 

• 

sermon- writing.  In  common  decency  I  can't 
bother  these  delightful  people  every  evening,  al- 
though they  have  begged  me  to  consider  their 

J 

home  as  my  own.  Mrs.  Barnett  is  a  most  charm- 
ing woman,  and  never  in  my  life  have  I  known 
anything  like  the  welcome  she  impulsively  ex- 
tended, but  she  works  hard  and  I  cannot  intrude 
too  much.  Hence  the  hours  after  nine  are  ex- 
ceedingly long,  when  it  chances  that  there  are  no 
sick  people  to  look  after.  At  first,  of  course,  I 
just  mooned  around,  and  called  myself  all  sorts 
of  names,  honestly  considering  myself  the  most 
stupendous  fool  ever  permitted  to  exist  in  free- 
dom from  restraint.  I  plunged  into  books  and 
devoured  the  medical  weeklies  which  the  irregu- 
lar mails  of  the  place  brought  me,  yet  this  did  not 
entirely  suffice,  and  now  I  have  begun  to  write. 
It  may  help  the  time  to  pass  away,  and  prevent 
the  attacks  of  mold  and  rust.  Later  on,  if 
things  do  not  shape  themselves  according  to  my 
hopes,  these  dangers  will  be  of  little  import. 
These  sheets  may  then  mildew  with  the  damp- 
ness of  this  land,  or  fly  away  to  sea  with  the 
shrewd  breezes  that  sweep  over  our  coast,  for  all 


4  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

I  shall  care.  At  any  rate  they  will  have  served 
their  purpose. 

Of  course  I  am  trying  to  swallow  my  medicine 
like  a  little  man.  If  there  is  a  being  I  despise  it 
is  the  fellow  who  whimpers.  There  is  little  that 
is  admirable  in  professional  pugilism,  saving  the 
smile  often  seen  on  a  fighter's  face  after  he  has 
just  received  a  particularly  hard  and  crushing 
blow.  Indeed,  that  smile  is  the  bruiser's  apology 
for  his  life. 

Lest  it  be  inferred  that  I  have  been  fighting, 
I  hasten  to  declare  that  it  was  a  rather  one-sided 
contest  in  which  I  was  defeated,  lock,  stock  and 
barrel,  by  a  mere  slip  of  a  girl  towards  whom  I 
had  only  lifted  up  my,  hands  in  supplication. 

"We  are  both  very  young,  John,"  she  ex- 
plained to  me,  with  an  exasperating,  if  uncon- 
scious, imitation  of  the  doctors  she  had  observed 
as  they  announced  very  disagreeable  things  to 
their  patients.  "Our  lives  are  practically  only 
beginning.  Until  now  we  have  been  like  the 
vegetables  that  are  brought  up  in  little  wooden 
boxes.  We  are  to  be  taken  up  and  planted  in 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  5 

a  field,  where  we  are  to  grow  up  into  something 
useful." 

"And  we  shall  enjoy  a  great  advantage  over 
the  young  cabbages  and  lettuces,"  I  chimed  in. 
"We  shall  have  the  inestimable  privilege  of  be- 
ing permitted  to  select  the  particular  farm  or 
enclosure  that  pleases  us  best." 

"Of  course,"  said  Dora  Maclennon,  cheer- 
fully. 

"But  I  should  be  ever  so  glad  to  have  you  select 
for  the  two  of  us,"  I  told  her.  "I  guarantee  to 
follow  you  blindly." 

She  put  her  hand  on  my  arm  and  patted  it  in 
the  abominably  soothing  way  she  has  doubtless 
acquired  in  the  babies'  ward.  In  my  case  it  was 
about  as  effectual  as  the  traditional  red  rag  to  a 
bull. 

"Don't  you  dare  touch  me  like  that,"  I  re- 
sented. "I'm  quite  through  with  the  mumps  and 
measles.  My  complaint  is  one  you  don't  under- 
stand at  all.  You  are  unable  to  sympathize  with 
me  because  love,  to  you,  is  a  mere  theoretical 
thing.  You've  heard  of  it,  perhaps  you  are  even 


ready  to  admit  that  some  people  suffer  from  such 
an  ailment,  but  you  don't  really  know  anything 
about  it.  It  has  not  been  a  part  of  your  curric- 
ulum. I've  been  trying  to  inoculate  you  with 
this  distemper  but  it  won't  take." 

"I  suppose  I'm  a  poor  sort  of  soil  for  that  kind 
of  culture,"  she  replied,  rather  wistfully. 

"There  is  no  finer  soil  in  the  world,"  I  pro- 
tested, doggedly. 

Every  man  in  the  world  and  at  least  half  the 
women  would  have  agreed  with  me.  The  grace 
of  her  charming  figure,  her  smiles  and  that  one 
little  dimple,  the  waving  abundance  of  her  silken 
hair,  the  rich  inflections  of  her  voice,  each  and  all 
contradicted  that  foolish  supposition  of  hers. 

"Well,  I  thought  this  was  an  invitation  to  din- 
ner," remarked  Dora,  sweetly,  with  all  the  brutal 
talent  of  her  sex  for  changing  the  drift  of  con- 
versation. "Of  course  they  fed  us  well  at  the 
hospital,  when  we  had  time  to  eat,  but  ..." 

"Is  that  your  last  word1?"  I  asked,  trying  to 
subdue  the  eagerness  of  my  voice. 

"If  you  don't  really  care  to  go  .  .  ." 

I  rose  and  sought  my  hat  and  overcoat,  while 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  7 

Dora  wandered  about  my  unpretentious  office. 

"Your  landlady  could  take  lessons  from 
Paddy's  pig  in  cleanliness,"  she  declared,  run- 
ning a  finger  over  my  bookcase  and  contemplat- 
ing it  with  horror.  "I  wonder  that  you,  a  sur- 
geon, should  be  an  accomplice  to  such  a  mess." 

"It's  pretty  bad,"  I  admitted,  "but  the  poor 
thing  has  weak  eyes,  and  she  has  seen  better 
days." 

"She  deserves  the  bad  ones,  then,"  Dora  ex- 
claimed. 

"As  in  the  case  of  many  other  maladies,  we 
have  as  yet  been  unable  to  discover  the  microbe 
of  woman's  inhumanity  to  woman,"  I  observed. 

"When  doggies  meet  they  commonly  growl," 
said  Dora,  "and  when  pussies  meet  they  usually 
spit  and  scratch.  Each  according  to  his  or  her 
nature.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  you  could  afford 
a  new  overcoat.  That  one  is  positively  becom- 
ing green." 

"I  do  believe  I  have  another  one,  somewhere," 
I  admitted. 

"Then  go  and  find  it,"  she  commanded. 
"You  need  some  one  to  look  after  you." 


8  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

I  turned  on  her  like  the  proverbial  flash,  or 
perhaps  like  the  downtrodden  worm. 

"Isn't  that  just  what  I've  been  gnashing  my 
teeth  over?"  I  asked.  "I'm  glad  you  have  the 
grace  to  admit  it." 

'Til  admit  anything  you  like,"  she  said. 
"But,  John  dear,  we  can't  really  be  sure  yet  that 
I'm  the  one  who  ought  to  do  it.  And — and 
maybe  there  will  be  no  room  at  the  tables  unless 
we  hurry  a  little." 

She  was  buttoning  up  her  gloves  again,  quite 
coolly,  and  cast  approving  glances  at  some  radio- 
graphic  prints  on  my  wall. 

"That  must  have  been  a  splendid  fracture," 
she  commented. 

"You  are  a  few  million  years  old  in  the  ways 
of  Eve,"  I  told  her,  "but  you  are  still  young  in 
the  practice  of  trained  nursing.  To  you  broken 
legs  and,  perhaps,  broken  hearts,  are  as  yet  but 
interesting  cases." 

She  turned  her  shapely  head  towards  me,  and 
for  an  instant  her  eyes  searched  mine. 

"Do  you  really  believe  that*?"  she  asked,  in 
a  very  low-sweet  voice. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  9 

I  stood  before  her,  penitently. 

"I  don't  suppose  I  do,"  I  acknowledged. 
"Let  us  say  that  it  was  just  some  of  the  growling 
of  the  dog.  He  doesn't  usually  mean  anything 
by  it." 

"You're  an  awfully  good  fellow,  John,"  said 
the  little  nurse,  pleasantly.  "I  know  I've  been 
hurting  you  a  bit.  Please,  I'm  sorry  the  medi- 
cine tastes  so  badly." 

The  only  thing  I  could  do  was  to  lift  up  one 
of  her  hands  and  kiss  a  white  kid  glove,  faute  de 
mieux.  It  was  stretched  over  her  fingers,  how- 
ever, and  hence  was  part  of  her. 

When  we  reached  the  restaurant  she  selected 
a  table  and  placed  herself  so  that  she  might  see 
as  many  diners  as  possible.  If  there  had  been 
people  outside  of  Paradise,  Eve  would  certainly 
have  peeped  through  the  palings.  I  handed  her 
the  bill  of  fare  and  she  begged  for  Cape  Cods. 

"You  order  the  rest  of  it,"  she  commanded. 
"I'm  going  to  look." 

While  I  discussed  dishes  with  the  waiter  her 
eyes  wandered  over  the  big  room,  taking  in  pretty 
dresses  and  becoming  coiffures.  Then  she 


10  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

watched  the  leader  of  the  little  orchestra,  who 
certainly  wielded  a  masterful  bow,  and  gave  a 
little  sigh  of  content. 

"We  really  could  afford  this  at  least  once  or 
twice  a  week,"  I  sought  to  tempt  her,  "and  the 
theatre  besides,  and — and — " 

She  looked  at  me  very  gravely,  moving  a  little 
from  side  to  side,  as  if  my  head  presented  varied 
and  interesting  aspects. 

"That's  one  of  the  troubles  with  you,"  she 
finally  said.  "You  have  some  money,  a  nice 
reasonable  amount  of  money,  and  you  can  afford 
some  things,  and  I  can't  tell  whether  you're  go- 
ing to  be  an  amateur  or  a  professional." 

"An  amateur4?"  I  repeated,  dully. 

"I  mean  no  reflection  upon  your  abilities,"  she 
explained,  hurriedly.  "I  know  all  that  you  have 
done  in  London  and  in  Edinburgh,  and  these 
German  places.  You  can  tack  more  than  half 
the  letters  of  the  alphabet  after  your  name  if  you 
choose  to.  But  I  don't  quite  see  what  you  are  do- 
ing in  New  York." 

"You  wrote  that  you  were  coming  to  study 
nursing  here,"  I  reminded  her.  "This  is  now  a 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  11 

great  centre  of  scientific  research,  thanks  to  the 
princely  endowments  of  the  universities.  Have 
you  the  slightest  notion  of  how  many  years  I 
have  loved  you,  Dora*?" 

"Not  quite  so  loud,"  she  reproved  me.  "I  be- 
lieve it  began  in  dear  old  St.  John's.  You  were 
about  fourteen  when  you  declared  your  passion, 
and  I  wore  pigtails  and  exceedingly  short  skirts. 
My  legs,  also,  were  the  spindliest  things." 

"Yes,  that  was  the  beginning,  Dora,  and  it  has 
continued  ever  since.  During  the  years  I  spent 
abroad  we  kept  on  writing.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
the  whole  thing  was  settled.  I've  always  had 
your  pictures  with  me;  the  first  was  little  Dora, 
and  the  other  one  was  taken  when  you  first  did 
your  hair  up  and  wore  long  dresses.  During  all 
that  time  St.  John's  was  the  garden  of  the  Hes- 
perides,  and  you  were  the  golden  thing  I  was  toil- 
ing for.  When  you  wrote  that  you  were  coming 
to  New  York  I  took  the  next  boat  over.  Then 
you  told  me  I  must  wait  until  you  graduated. 
And  now,  after  your  commencement,  I  hoped,  in- 
deed I  hoped — I'm  afraid  I'm  worrying  you, 
dear." 


12  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

She  smiled  at  me,  very  pleasantly,  but  the  lit- 
tle dimple  held  naught  but  mystery.  I  really 
think  her  eyes  implied  a  sort  of  regret,  as  if  she 
wished  she  could  make  the  ordeal  less  hard  for 
me. 

The  waiter  brought  the  oysters,  which  Dora 
consumed  appreciatively.  I  was  simply  com- 
pelled to  eat  also,  lest  she  should  deem  me  a  peev- 
ish loser  in  the  great  game  I  had  sought  to  play. 
Yet  I  remember  that  these  Cape  Cods  were  dis- 
tinctly hard  to  swallow,  delicious  though  they 
probably  were. 

Suddenly  she  looked  up,  and  the  little 
oyster  impaled  on  her  fork  dropped  on  the 
plate. 

"There's  Taurus!"  she  exclaimed,  with  gleam- 
ing eyes. 

She  was  looking  at  a  rather  tall  man,  of  pow- 
erful build,  whose  abundant  hair  was  splendidly 
tinged  with  silver,  and  who  was  coming  in  with 
a  very  beautiful  woman. 

"Is  that  what  you  nurses  call  him1?"  I  asked, 
recognizing  one  of  the  great  surgeons  of  the 
world. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  13 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "Isn't  he  wonderful? 
We're  all  in  love  with  him,  the  mean  thing." 

"Kindly  explain  the  adjective,"  I  urged  her. 
"Is  it  due  to  the  fact  that  he  protected  himself 
against  the  wiles  of  a  host  of  pretty  women  by 
marrying  the  sweetest  one  of  the  lot — with  a  sin- 
gle exception — to  the  utter  despair  of  the  re- 
mainder?" 

"Did  you  ever  hear  him  blow  up  his  house- 
staff?"  Dora  asked  me. 

"I  have  heard  that  he  could  be  rather  strenu- 
ous at  times,"  I  admitted. 

"Well,  that's  how  he  infringes  on  our  rights," 
Dora  informed  me.  "I  have  never  heard  him 
say  an  angry  word  to  a  nurse.  He  just  has  a  way 
of  smiling  at  one,  as  if  he  were  beholding  an  in- 
finitesimal infant  totally  incapable  of  under- 
standing. The  sarcasm  of  it  is  utterly  fierce  and 
the  nurse  goes  off,  red  and  shaken,  and  feels  like 
killing  him.  Don't  you  think  we've  got  just  as 
good  a  right  as  any  whipper-snapper  of  a  new 
interne  to  be  blown  up?" 

"Evidently,"  I  assented.  "It  is  an  unfair  dis- 
crimination." 


14  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"And  yet  we're  all  just  crazy  for  him.  You 
can  hardly  understand  how  the  personality  of  the 
man  permeates  the  wards,  how  he  gives  one  the 
impression  of  some  wonderful  being  who  has 
reached  a  pinnacle,  and  remains  there,  smilingly, 
without  heeding  the  crowd  below  that  worships 
and  cheers.  And  how  the  patients  adore  him!" 

She  evidently  expected  no  answer  from  me, 
nor  did  I  venture  upon  one.  Her  words  were 
very  significant,  and  gave  me  a  rather  hopeless 
feeling.  She  was  under  the  influence  of  the 
glamour  of  great  names  and  reputations.  Her 
youth  demanded  hero-worship.  Measured  by 
.her  standards  I  was  but  a  nice  friend,  to  whom 
she  could  even  be  affectionate. 

Presently,  in  her  enjoyment  of  our  modest  little 
dinner,  she  turned  to  me,  appearing  to  forget  the 
crowd,  and  sighed  happily. 

"This  would  all  be  so  delightful,"  she  said, 
"if  .  .  ." 

"Pll  tell  you,  girlie,"  I  said,  "let  us  agree  that 
all  this  has  been  a  dream  of  mine.  We  will  say 
that  I  have  never  been  in  love  with  you,  and  re- 
gard you  now  with  profound  indifference.  It  has 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  15 

been  that  which  some  very  amazing  practitioners 
are  pleased  to  call  an  error.  Now  you  will  be 
able  to  enjoy  happiness.  As  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned I  don't  suppose  it  can  make  me  feel  any 
worse." 

"You're  a  dear  good  boy,  John,"  she  an- 
swered. "We  shall  always  be  awfully  good 
friends,  and  perhaps,  some  day  .  .  .  Now  you 
must  tell  me  all  your  plans." 

"Ladies  first,"  I  objected. 

"Well,  my  heart  is  still  in  Newfoundland,  you 
know.  But  I'm  going  to  stay  at  least  a  year  in 
New  York.  I'm  going  to  work  among  the  poor- 
est and  most  unpleasant,  because  I  want  to  be- 
come self-reliant.  Then  I  shall  go  back  home. 
Think  of  a  trained  nurse  let  loose  in  some  of 
those  outports!  I  should  just  revel  in  it.  I  am 
an  heiress  worth  five  hundred  dollars  a  year  of 
my  own.  That  would  keep  a  lot  of  people  up 
there.  You  see,  I  have  a  theory!" 

"Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  share  it  with  me1?" 
I  asked. 

"Well,  ordinary  nursing  is  a  humdrum  thing, 
and  there  are  thousands  to  do  it.  It  is  the  same 


16  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

thing  with  you.  Just  now,  having  no  practice  as 
yet,  you  are  working  in  laboratories  with  a  lot  of 
others;  you  run  around  hospitals — also  with  a 
crowd.  What  do  you  know  about  your  ability  to 
go  right  out  and  do  a  man's  work,  by  yourself? 
That  is  what  counts,  to  my  mind." 

"I  see  the  point,"  I  informed  her,  "and  you  ex- 
pect surely  to  return  to  the  land  of  codfish." 

"Yes,"  she  nodded,  "and  now  what  about 
you?" 

"Oh,  I  am  going  there  next  week,"  I  replied. 

She  opened  her  eyes  very  wide,  vaguely  scent- 
ing some  sort  of  joke,  but  in  this  she  erred. 

"I  see  no  use  in  remaining  here,"  I  said,  with 
a  determination  as  strong  as  it  was  recent.  "It 
would  take  me  a  long  time  to  put  myself  on  the 
level  of  men  like  Taurus,  and  I  don't  want  a  lot 
of  nurses  falling  in  love  with  me;  I  only  asked 
for  one.  You  are  going  back  after  a  time.  Very 
well,  I'm  going  now,  and  I'll  wait  for  you.  I  can 
easily  find  some  place  where  a  doctor  is  badly 
needed.  You  will  answer  my  letters,  won't 
you?' 

"I  promise,"  she  said,  very  gravely,  "and  it  is 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  17 

a  very  good  idea.  One  can  always  do  a  man's 
work  up  there." 

She  ate  a  Nesselrode  pudding  while  I  enjoyed 
coffee  and  a  cigar,  to  the  extent  that  I  forgot  to 
drink  the  one  and  allowed  the  other  to  go  out 
after  a  puff  or  two. 

"Your  money  came  from  a  good  St.  John's 
merchant  who  made  it  from  the  people  of  the  out- 
ports,"  she  said.  "You  might  spend  a  little  on 
them  now,  gracefully.  They  need  it  badly 
enough." 

We  remained  silent  for  some  time,  thinking 
of  the  bleak  coast  of  our  big  island,  where  the 
price  of  our  little  dinner  would  have  represented 
a  large  sum,  and  then  we  left  the  restaurant  and 
took  a  car  up  town. 

When  she  finally  held  out  her  little  hand  to  me 
it  was  warm,  and  I  fancied  that  from  it  came  a 
current  that  was  comforting,  though  it  may  have 
been  but  the  affectionate  regard  of  some  years  of 
good  friendship. 

"You  will  dine  again  with  me,  next  Thurs- 
day*?" I  asked  her.  "It  will  take  me  a  few  days 
to  get  ready." 


18  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"Don't  you  think  that  Gordian  knot  had  bet- 
ter be  cut  at  once?"  advised  Dora.  "I  won't 
change  my  mind,  and  you  know  I've  always  been 
an  obstinate  thing.  There  are  important  things 
for  both  of  us  to  achieve,  somewhere.  I  must 
grope  about  to  find  my  share  of  them,  for  I  feel 
like  the  ship  that  did  not  find  itself  till  it  encoun- 
tered a  storm  or  two.  If  I  promised  to  meet  you 
next  week  you  would  keep  on  hoping.  Do 
plunge  right  in  now  instead  of  shivering  on  the 
bank." 

"Don't  trouble  about  any  more  metaphors," 
I  told  her.  "You  promise  to  go  home  within  a 
year?" 

"I  firmly  intend  to,"  she  replied,  "but  you 
can't  always  depend  on  a  woman's  plans." 

"If  I  can't  depend  on  you  I  have  very  little 
left  to  believe  in,"  I  declared. 

"I'm  pretty  sure  I'll  come,"  she  said,  "and — 
and  God  bless  you,  John!" 

So  we  separated  there,  in  the  silent  street,  be- 
fore the  nurses'  home  where  she  had  taken  a  room 
a  few  days  after  her  graduation.  I  couldn't 
trust  myself  to  say  anything  more. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  19 

The  door  closed  upon  her  and  I  slowly  walked 
back  to  my  quarters,  with  a  head  full  of  dreary 
thoughts,  and  several  times  narrowly  escaped 
speeding  taxis  and  brought  down  upon  myself 
some  picturesque  language. 

I  fear  that  I  was  hardly  in  a  mood  to  appreciate 
its  beauty. 


CHAPTER  II  , 

[From  John  Grant's  Diary 

FOUR  weeks  ago,  this  evening,  I  sat  with  Dora 
in  that  bright  dining  room  at  the  Rochambeau. 
My  description  of  that  last  meeting  of  ours  is  a 
rather  flippant  one,  I  fancy,  but  some  feminine 
faces  are  improved  by  powder,  and  some  men's 
sentiments  by  a  veneer  of  assumed  cheerfulness. 
That  cut  of  mine  has  not  the  slightest  intention 
of  healing  by  first  intention;  it  is  gaping  as  widely 
as  ever,  as  far  as  I  can  judge.  Yet  I  am  glad  I 
made  no  further  effort.  I  suppose  a  man  had 
better  stop  before  he  gets  himself  disliked. 

Yesterday  morning  I  came  out  of  a  dilapidated 
dwelling  in  which  I  had  spent  the  whole  night, 
and  scrambled  away  over  some  rocks.  When  I 
sat  down  my  legs  were  hanging  over  a  chasm  at 
the  foot  of  which  grandly  rolling  waves  burst 
into  foam,  keeping  up  the  warfare  waged  during 

a  million  years  against  our  sturdy  cliffs. 

so 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  81 

Rays  of  dulled  crimson  sought  to  penetrate, 
feebly,  through  the  fog,  as  if  the  sun  knew  only 
too  well  how  often  it  had  been  defeated  in  its 
contest  against  the  murky  vapors  of  this  hazy 
land. 

My  meeting  with  Mr.  Barnett  on  the  Rosalind 
was  a  most  fortunate  accident.  The  earnest  lit- 
tle clergyman  sat  next  to  me  at  the  table,  and 
immediately  engaged  me  in  conversation.  I 
gathered  from  him  that  he  had  been  begging  in 
the  great  city  and  had  managed  to  collect  a  very 
few  hundred  dollars  for  his  little  church.  He 
spoke  most  cheerfully  of  all  that  he  meant  to 
achieve  with  all  this  wealth. 

"I  am  going  to  have  the  steeple  finished,"  he 
said.  "It  will  take  but  a  few  feet  of  lumber, 
and  we  still  have  half  a  keg  of  nails.  Some  day 
I  expect  to  have  a  little  reading  room,  and  per- 
haps a  magic  lantern.  I  will  try  to  give  them 
some  short  lectures.  I  am  ambitious,  and  hope 
that  I  am  not  expecting  too  much.  We  are  really 
doing  very  nicely  at  Sweetapple  Cove." 

"Where  is  that?"  I  asked  him. 

The  little  parson  gave  me  the  desired  geo- 


22  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

graphical  information  and,  finding  me  interested, 
began  to  speak  of  his  work. 

He  was  one  of  the  small  band  of  devoted  men 
whose  lives  are  spent  on  the  coast,  engaged  in 
serving  their  fellow-men  to  the  best  of  their  abili- 
ties. The  extent  of  his  parish  was  scarcely 
limited  by  the  ability  of  a  fishing  boat  to  travel 
a  day's  journey,  and  he  spoke  very  modestly  of 
some  rather  narrow  escapes  from  storm  and  ice. 

"If  we  only  had  a  doctor!"  he  sighed.  "Mrs. 
Barnett  and  I  do  our  best.  Things  are  sometimes 
just  heartrending." 

At  once  I  manifested  interest,  and  angled  for 
further  information.  This  was  just  the  sort  of 
place  I  had  in  mind.  It  appeared  that  the  near- 
est doctor  was  more  than  a  day's  travel  away, 
and  that  the  population  was  rather  too  poor  to 
afford  the  luxury  of  professional  advice. 

"We  sometimes  feel  very  hopeless,"  he  told 
me. 

"How  do  you  reach  Sweetapple  Cove*?"  I 
asked  him. 

"There  will  be  a  little  schooner  in  a  few  days," 
he  answered. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  23 

"I  am  a  physician,"  I  announced,  "and  am 
looking  for  exactly  that  kind  of  a  practice." 

We  were  strolling  on  the  deck  at  this  time. 
Mr.  Baraett  turned  quickly  and  grasped  my  arm. 

"There  is  hardly  a  dollar  there  for  you,"  he 
said.  "No  sane  man  would  come  to  such  a  place 
to  practice.  And  there  is  a  little  hardship  in  that 
sort  of  work.  You  don't  realize  it." 

"I  am  under  the  impression  that  it  is  just  the 
place  for  me,"  I  told  him. 

"There  is  really  good  salmon  fishing  in  Sweet- 
apple  River,"  he  began,  excitedly,  "and  you  can 
get  caribou  within  a  day's  walk,  and  there  are 
lots  of  trout,  and  .  .  ." 

I  could  see  that  he  was  eager  to  find  some  re- 
deeming points  for  Sweetapple  Cove. 

"Behold  the  tempter,"  I  laughed. 

"Dear  me !  Of  course  I  did  not  mean  to  tempt 
you,"  he  said,  flushing  like  a  girl.  "And  I'm 
afraid  you  would  have  to  live  in  some  fisherman's 
house,  and  to  furnish  medicines  as  well  as  your 
services.  Of  course  they  might  pay  you  some- 
thing if  the  fishing  happened  to  be  good.  It 
sometimes  is,  you  know." 


24,  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

As  soon  as  we  arrived  in  St.  John's  I  made 
many  and  sundry  purchases,  with  a  proper  dis- 
count for  cash,  and  three  days  later  we  sailed  out 
of  the  harbor  on  a  tiny  schooner  laden  with  salt, 
barrels  of  flour  and  various  other  provisions.  In 
less  than  forty-eight  hours  we  arrived  in  Sweet- 
apple  Cove.  The  delighted  reception  I  received 
from  Mrs.  Barnett,  a  sweet  lovable  woman,  ex- 
alted my  ideas  of  the  value  of  my  profession. 
She  simply  gloated  over  me  and  patted  her  hus- 
band on  the  back  as  if  his  superior  genius  had 
been  the  true  cause  of  my  arrival.  At  once  she 
made  arrangements  for  my  living  with  Captain 
Sammy  Moore,  an  ancient  of  the  sea  whose  nice 
old  wife  accepted  with  tremulous  pride  the 
honor  of  sheltering  me.  The  inhabitants  and 
their  offspring,  the  dogs  and  the  goats,  the  fowls 
and  the  solitary  cow,  trooped  about  me  for  closer 
inspection,  and  my  practice  became  at  once  estab- 
lished. 

I  have  taken  some  formidable  walks  over  the 
barrens  back  inland,  and  have  angled  with  dis- 
tinguished success.  The  days  are  becoming  fairly 
crowded  ones. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  25 

Shortly  after  sunrise,  the  day  before  yesterday, 
I  was  called  upon  to  go  to  a  little  island  several 
miles  out  at  sea.  Captain  Sammy  and  a  man 
called  Frenchy  took  me  out  there.  Their  little 
fishing  smack  is  the  cab  I  use  for  running  my  re- 
moter errands.  I  found  a  man  nearly  dying 
from  a  bad  septic  wound  of  his  right  arm.  I 
judged  that  he  might  possibly  survive  an  ampu- 
tation, but  that  the  loss  of  the  breadwinner's 
limb  would  have  been  just  as  bad,  as  far  as  his 
family  was  concerned,  as  the  death  of  the  patient. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  grit  one's  teeth  and 
take  chances.  I  remained  with  him  throughout 
the  night,  and  in  the  morning  was  glad  to  detect 
some  slight  improvement. 

The  keen  breeze  that  expanded  my  lungs  as  I 
sat  on  the  rocks  did  me  a  great  deal  of  good.  It 
rested  me  after  the  dreary  vigil  and  presently  I 
returned  to  my  patient.  I'm  afraid  that  we  men 
are  poor  nurses.  We  can  keep  on  fighting  and 
struggling  and  trying,  but  when  we  have  to  sit 
still  and  watch  with  folded  arms  the  iron  enters 
our  souls,  while  the  consciousness  of  helpless  wait- 
ing is  after  all  the  bitterest  thing  we  can  contend 


26  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

against.  Women  are  far  more  patient  and 
enduring. 

Constantly  I  renewed  the  dressings,  and  bathed 
the  limb  in  antiseptics,  and  gave  a  few  stimulat- 
ing drugs.  Then  I  would  watch  the  man's  hur- 
ried breathing  and  feverish  pulse.  But  I  could 
not  remain  with  idle  hands  very  long  at  a  time, 
and  frequently  strolled  out  to  breathe  the  sea- 
scented  air,  in  some  place  well  to  windward  of 
the  poor  little  fishhouses  that  reeked  infamously 
with  the  scattered  offal  of  cod.  A  disconsolate 
man  was  trying  to  mend  a  badly  frayed  net  and 
a  few  ragged  children,  gaunt  and  underfed,  fol- 
lowed me  about,  curiously,  whispering  among 
themselves. 

The  sick  man's  wife  sat  most  of  the  time,  near 
the  bed,  hour  after  hour,  a  picture  of  intense, 
stolid  misery.  From  time  to  time  she  wailed  be- 
cause there  was  no  more  tea.  Always  she  has- 
tened to  obey  my  slightest  request,  clumsily, 
faithfully,  like  some  humble  dog  to  which  some 
hard  and  scarcely  understood  task  might  have 
been  given.  One  could  see  that  she  really  had 
no  hope.  The  usual  way  was  for  the  men  to  fail 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  27 

to  return,  some  day,  when  they  went  out  and 
were  caught  in  a  bad  storm,  or  when  the  ice-floes 
drifted  out  to  sea,  and  then  the  women  would 
wait,  patiently,  until  the  certainty  of  their  be- 
reavement had  entered  their  souls.  This  one 
had  the  sad  privilege  of  witnessing  the  tragedy. 
It  was  all  happening  in  the  little  house  of  dis- 
jointed planks,  and  perhaps  she  took  some  com- 
fort in  the  idea  that  she  would  be  there  at  the 
last  moment.  It  was  easy  to  see,  however,  that 
she  considered  my  efforts  as  some  sort  of  rite  which, 
at  most,  might  comfort  the  dying. 

Before  noon,  when  the  haze  had  lifted  before 
the  sweep  of  a  north  east  wind,  one  of  the  chil- 
dren called.  The  mother  went  out,  hurriedly, 
while  I  stood  at  the  open  door.  About  a  mile 
away  a  stunning  white  schooner  was  steaming 
towards  the  entrance  of  Sweetapple  Cove. 

"I'm  a-wonderin'  what  she  be  doin'  here,"  said 
the  woman,  dully.  "She  ain't  no  ship  of  our 
parts.  I  never  seen  the  like  o'  she." 

There  was  a  glinting  of  light  cast  forth  by 
bright  brasses,  and  I  could  see  a  red  spot  which 
appeared  to  indicate  the  presence  of  a  woman  on 


28  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

board,  clad  perhaps  in  a  crimson  cape  or  shawl. 

We  kept  on  staring  at  her  for  some  time,  as 
people  do  in  forsaken  places  when  a  stranger 
passes  by,  and  we  returned  to  the  bedside. 

The  day  stretched  out  its  interminable  length, 
but  the  night  was  longer  still.  The  children 
had  been  put  to  bed  in  dark  corners,  after  a  meal 
of  fish  and  hard  bread.  The  smallest  had 
clamored  for  some  tea. 

"There  ain't  no  more,"  said  the  mother. 

I  had  noticed  that  she  had  put  aside  a  very 
small  package  of  this  luxury,  on  a  high  shelf. 

"Why  don't  you  give  them  some*?"  I  asked. 
"You  forget  that  you  have  a  little  laid  aside." 

"There  won't  be  none  left  fer  you,"  she  an- 
swered. 

I  ordered  her  to  put  the  kettle  on  the  fire  at 
once  and  make  tea  for  her  young  ones,  and  bade 
her  take  some  also. 

"I  told  Sammy  Moore  to  bring  some  to-mor- 
row," I  told  her. 

I  am  afraid  that  I  dozed  a  good  many  times, 
that  night,  on  the  little  low  stool  near  the  bed. 
There  was  not  much  to  be  done.  Gradually  it 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  29 

dawned  upon  me  that  the  man  was  getting  bet- 
ter. The  stimulants  had  produced  some  reac- 
tion, and  the  hot  dry  skin  was  becoming  moister. 
I  feared  it  might  be  but  a  temporary  improve- 
ment, and  hardly  dared  mention  it.  Yet  the 
man  was  no  longer  delirious.  Several  times  he 
asked  for  water,  and  once  looked  at  me  curiously, 
with  a  faint  attempt  at  a  smile,  before  his  head 
again  sank  down  on  the  pillow. 

Finally  the  sunlight  came  again,  shortly  after 
the  smoky  lamp  had  been  extinguished,  and  I 
went  out  of  the  house,  when  the  chill  of  the  early 
morning  seized  me  so  that  for  a  moment  my  teeth 
chattered.  The  woman  followed  me. 

"He  do  be  a  dreadful  long  time  dyin',"  she 
said,  miserably. 

I  suppose  that  I  was  nervous  and  weary  with 
the  two  long  nights  of  watching,  and  lost  mastery 
over  myself.  To  me  those  words  sounded  heart- 
less, although  now  I  realize  they  came  from  the 
depth  of  her  woe. 

"You  have  no  right  to  say  such  things,"  I  re- 
proved her  sharply.  "I  don't  think  he  is  going 
to  die.  I  believe  that  we  have  saved  him." 


30  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Then  she  sank  on  the  ground,  grasping  one  of 
my  chilly  hands  and  weeping  over  it.  These 
were  the  first  tears  she  had  shed  and  I  saw  how 
grievously  I  had  erred.  As  gently  as  I  could  I 
lifted  her  to  her  feet. 

"I'm  sorry  I  spoke  so  gruffly,"  I  said.  "But  I 
really  believe  that  we  are  going  to  pull  him 
through,  and  that  we  shall  save  his  arm." 

At  noon-time  we  saw  the  white  yacht  coming 
out  of  Sweetapple  Cove.  She  was  speeding  away 
in  the  direction  of  St.  John's.  The  weather  was 
beginning  to  spoil,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  seaward 
cliffs  the  great  seas,  smooth  and  oily,  boomed  with 
great  crashes  that  portended  a  coming  storm. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  wind  was  coming 
in  black  squalls,  accompanied  by  a  rolling  mist. 
As  I  looked  towards  the  mainland  I  saw  a  fishing 
boat  coming,  leaning  hard  to  the  strong  gale. 
An  hour  later  Sammy  and  his  man  landed  in  the 
tiny  cove  and  the  old  fellow  came  rushing  to- 
wards me. 

"You  is  wanted  to  come  ter  onst,"  he  said. 
"They  is  a  man  come  yisterday  on  that  white 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  31 

yacht.  He  went  up  th'  river  fur  salmon,  jist 
after  his  boat  left,  and  bruk  the  leg  o'  he  slippin' 
on  the  rocks.  Yer  got  to  come  right  now." 

I  took  the  small  package  he  brought  me  and 
rushed  up  to  the  house  with  it.  The  improve- 
ment had  continued,  and  I  gave  careful  directions 
in  regard  to  continuing  the  treatment.  After  this 
I  descended  to  the  tiny  beach  where  the  boat  was 
waiting. 

"She  be  nasty  when  yer  gets  from  the  lee  o'  the 
island,"  Sammy  informed  me.  "I  mistrust  its 
gettin'  worse  and  some  fog  rollin'  in  wid'  it. 
Mebbe  yer  doesn't  jist  feel  like  reskin'  it?" 

"How  about  your  wife  and  children,  Sammy1?" 
I  asked.  "There  is  no  one  depending  on  me." 

He  took  a  long  look,  quietly  gauging  the  pos- 
sibilities. 

"I'm  a-thinkin'  we's  like  to  make  it  all  right," 
he  finally  told  me. 

"And  what  about  you  and  the  little  boy, 
Frenchy?"  I  asked  the  other  man. 

"Me  go  orright,"  he  answered.  "Me  see  heem 
baby  again." 


32  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

So  we  jumped  aboard.  The  tiny  cove  was  so 
sheltered  that  we  had  to  give  a  few  strokes  of  the 
oars  before,  suddenly,  the  little  ship  heeled  to 
the  blow. 


CHAPTER  III 

[From  John  Grant's  Diary 

IN  a  few  minutes  the  slight  protection  afforded 
us  by  Will's  Island  was  denied  us.  I  was  anx- 
ious to  ask  further  details  about  this  injured 
man  we  were  hurrying  to  see,  but  the  two  fisher- 
men had  no  leisure  for  conversation.  A  few  nec- 
essary words  had  to  be  shrieked.  Even  before  I 
had  finished  putting  on  my  oilskins  the  water  was 
dashing  over  us,  and  old  Sammy,  at  the  tiller,  was 
jockeying  his  boat  with  an  intense  preoccupation 
that  could  not  be  interfered  with. 

The  smack  was  of  a  couple  of  tons'  burden, 
undecked,  with  big  fish-boxes  built  astern  and 
amidships.  She  carried  two  slender  masts  with 
no  bowsprit  to  speak  of,  having  no  headsails,  and 
her  two  tanned  wings  bellied  out  while  the  whole 
of  her  fabric  pitched  and  rolled  over  the  white 
crested  waves.  The  fog  was  growing  denser 
around  us,  as  if  we  had  been  journeying  through 

33 


34  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

a  swift-moving  cloud.  It  was  scudding  in  from 
the  Grand  Banks,  pushed  by  a  chill  gale  which 
might  first  have  passed  over  the  icy  plateaux  of 
inner  Greenland. 

This  lasted  for  a  long  time.  We  were  all  star- 
ing ahead  and  seeking  to  penetrate  the  blinding 
veil  of  vapor,  and  I  felt  more  utterly  strayed  and 
lost  than  ever  in  my  life  before.  Our  faces  were 
running  with  the  salt  spray  that  swished  over 
the  bows  or  flew  over  the  quarters,  to  stream  down 
into  the  bilge  at  our  feet,  foul  with  fragments  of 
squid  and  caplin  long  dead.  We  were  also  be- 
ginning to  listen  eagerly  for  other  sounds  than  the 
wind  hissing  in  the  cordage,  the  breaking  of  wave- 
tops  and  the  hard  thumping  of  the  blunt  bows 
upon  the  seas. 

"Look  out  sharp,  byes,  I'm  mistrustin',"  roared 
old  Sammy. 

There  were  some  long  tense  moments,  ended 
by  a  shriek  from  Frenchy  by  the  foremast. 

"Hard  a-lee!" 

The  sails  shook  in  the  wind  and  swung  in- 
board, and  out  again,  with  a  rattling  of  the  little 
blocks.  The  forefoot  rose  high,  once  or  twice, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  35 

with  the  lessened  headway,  and  a  great  savage 
mass  of  rock  passed  alongside,  stretching  out 
jagged  spurs,  like  some  wild  beast  robbed  of  its 
prey.  Frenchy,  ahead,  crossed  himself  quietly, 
without  excitement,  and  again  peered  into  the 
fog. 

"Close  call!"  I  shouted  to  the  skipper,  after  I 
had  recovered  my  breath,  since  I  am  not  yet  en- 
tirely inured  to  the  risks  these  men  constantly 
run. 

"We  nigh  got  ketched,"  roared  back  Sammy 
Moore.  "I  were  mistrustin'  the  tide  wuz  settin' 
inshore  furder'n  common.  But  I  knows  jist 
where  I  be  now,  anyways." 

His  grim  wrinkled  face  was  unmoved,  for  dur- 
ing all  his  life  he  had  been  staring  death  in  the 
face  and  such  happenings  as  these  were  but  in- 
cidents in  the  day's  work. 

"I  doesn't  often  git  mistook,"  he  shouted,  "but 
fer  this  once  it  looks  like  the  joke  were  on  me." 

The  little  smack  continued  to  rise  and  fall  over 
the  surge.  Yves,  the  Frenchman,  remained  at 
his  post  forward,  holding  on  to  the  foremast  and 
indifferent  to  the  spray  that  was  drenching  him 


36  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

as  he  stared  through  the  fog,  keenly.  My  at- 
tention was  becoming  relaxed  for,  after  all,  I 
was  but  a  passenger.  Despite  Sammy's  close 
shave  I  maintained  a  well-grounded  faith  in  him. 
It  was  gorgeous  to  see  him  speed  his  boat  over 
the  turbulent  waters  with  an  inbred  skill  and 
ease  which  reminded  one  of  seagulls  buffeting  the 
wind  or  harbor  seals  playing  in  their  element. 
Like  these  the  man  was  adapted  to  his  life,  not 
because  he  possessed  wonderful  intelligence  but 
owing  to  the  brine  which,  since  childhood,  had 
entered  his  blood.  The  vast  ice-pans  had  re- 
vealed their  secrets  to  him  and  the  North  Atlantic 
gales  had  become  the  breath  of  his  nostrils. 

I  can  remember  a  time  when  I  had  an  idea  that 
I  could  handle  a  boat  fairly  well,  but  now  I  was 
compelled  to  recognize  my  limitations,  while  I 
really  enjoyed  the  exhibition  of  Sammy's  skill. 

"We'd  ought  ter  be  gettin'  handy,"  roared  the 
latter  to  Frenchy,  who  nodded  back,  turning  to- 
wards us  his  dripping,  bearded  face,  for  an  in- 
stant. 

Suddenly  he  extended  his  arm. 

"Me  see.     To  port!"  he  shouted. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  57 

Dimly,  veiled  by  the  fog  curtain,  of  ghostly 
outline,  a  jutting  cliff  appeared  and  Sammy 
luffed  slightly.  On  both  sides  of  us  the  seas 
were  dashing  up  some  tremendous  rocks,  but  di- 
rectly ahead  there  was  an  opening  between  the 
combers  that  hurled  themselves  aloft,  roaring  and 
impotent,  to  fall  back  into  seething  masses  of 
spume.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  tremendous 
walls  over  which  voices  were  shrieking  in  the  bat- 
tle of  unending  centuries  between  the  moving 
turmoil  and  the  stolid  cliffs,  defying  the  batter- 
ing waves. 

Our  little  boat  flew  on,  and  suddenly  the  roll- 
ing and  pitching  ceased  as  if  some  magic  had 
oiled  the  waters.  Within  the  land-locked  cove 
the  wind  no  longer  howled  and  the  surface  was 
smooth.  It  was  like  awaking  from  the  unrest 
of  a  nightmare  to  the  peace  of  one's  bed.  We 
glided  on,  losing  headway,  for  Frenchy  had  let 
the  sheets  run.  With  movements  apparently 
slow,  yet  with  the  deftness  which  brings  quick 
results,  the  sails  were  gathered  about  the  masts 
and  made  fast,  and  presently  we  drifted  against 
the  small  forest  of  poles  supporting  the  flakes 


38  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

and  fishhouses.  These  were  black  and  glistening 
with  the  rain  and  from  them  came  an  odor,  acrid 
and  penetrating,  of  decaying  fish  in  ill-emptied 
gurry-butts  and  of  putrefying  livers  oozing  out 
a  black  oil  in  open  casks. 

We  made  our  way  over  the  precarious  footing 
of  unstable  planks  and  shook  ourselves  like  wet 
dogs,  while  Sammy  stopped  for  a  moment  to  hunt 
beneath  his  oilskins  for  a  sodden  plug  of  tobacco, 
from  which  he  managed  to  gnaw  off  a  satisfactory 
portion. 

"Well,  we's  here,  anyways,"  he  observed, 
quietly. 

"Sammy,  you're  a  wonderful  man!"  I  ex- 
claimed, earnestly. 

The  old  fellow  looked  at  me,  but  his  seamed 
face  appeared  devoid  of  understanding.  Slowly 
there  seemed  to  dawn  upon  his  mind  the  idea 
that  this  might  be  some  sort  of  jest  on  my 
part,  and  the  tanned  leather  of  his  countenance 
wrinkled  further  into  a  near  approach  to  a  smile, 
as  we  started  up  the  steep  path  leading  up  to  the 
village. 

Yet  I  had  meant  no  pleasantry  whatever,  for 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  39 

really  I  was  awed  by  the  mystery  of  it  all.  In 
the  fog  that  rolled  in  with  the  north-east  gale  we 
had  left  Will's  Island,  ten  miles  away,  and 
skirted,  without  ever  seeing  them,  some  miles  of 
cliffs.  We  had  avoided  scores  of  rocks  over 
which  the  seas  broke  fiercely,  and  had  finally 
dashed  through  a  narrow  opening  in  the  appalling 
face  of  the  huge  ledge,  unerringly.  To  me  it 
seemed  like  a  gigantic  deed,  beyond  the  powers 
of  man. 

The  path  began  to  widen,  and  Sammy  again 
vouchsafed  some  information,  taking  up  his  slen- 
der thread  of  narrative  as  if  it  had  never  been 
interrupted. 

"So  they  carries  him  up  to  th'  house,  on  a  fish- 
barrow,  an'  they  sends  for  me,  an'  wuz  all  talkin' 
to  onst,  sayin'  I  must  git  you  quick  an'  never 
mind  what  it  costs.  Them  people  don't  mind 
what-  nothin'  costs,  'pears  to  me." 

By  this  time  we  had  risen  well  above  the  waters 
of  Sweetapple  Cove.  The  few  scattered  small 
houses  appeared  through  the  mist,  their  eaves 
dripping  in  unclean  puddles.  The  most  pre- 
tentious dwelling  in  the  place  is  deserted.  It 


40  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

boasts  a  small  veranda  and  a  fairly  large  front 
window  over  which  boards  have  been  nailed.  In 
very  halt  and  ill-formed  letters  a  sign  announces 
"The  Royal  Shop,"  a  title  certainly  savoring  of 
affluence.  But  it  is  a  sad  commentary  upon  the 
prosperity  of  the  Cove  that  even  a  Syrian  trader 
has  tried  the  place  and  failed  to  eke  out  a  living 
there. 

Some  dispirited  goats  forlornly  watched  our 
little  procession  for  a  moment,  and  resumed  their 
mournful  hunt  outside  the  palings  of  tiny  en- 
closures jealously  protected  against  their  incur- 
sions among  a  few  anaemic  cabbages. 

A  little  farther  on  the  only  cow  in  the  place, 
who  is  descended  from  the  scriptural  lean  ones, 
was  munching  the  discarded  tail  of  a  large  cod- 
fish which  probably  still  held  a  faint  flavor  of  the 
salt  with  which  it  had  been  preserved.  Nonde- 
script dogs,  bearing  very  little  resemblance  to  the 
original  well-known  breed,  wandered  aimlessly 
under  the  pelting  rain. 

Frenchy  reached  his  dilapidated  shack,  and 
was  the  first  to  stop. 

"Veil,  so  long,"  he  said. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  41 

"Au  revoir,  a  demain!"  I  answered,  as  well  as 
I  could. 

His  somber,  swarthy  face  brightened  at  the 
sound  of  words  of  his  own  tongue.  I  believe 
that  to  him  they  were  a  tiny  glimpse  of  some- 
thing well-beloved  and  of  memories  that  refused 
to  grow  dim.  For  a  moment  he  stood  at  the 
door,  beaming  upon  me.  A  small  boy  came  out, 
very  grimy  of  face  and  hands  and  with  a  head 
covered  with  yellow  curls.  He  was  chiefly  clad 
in  an  old  woollen  jersey  repaired  with  yarn  of 
many  hues,  that  nearly  reached  his  toes. 

"Papa  Tves!"  he  cried,  leaping  up  joyfully, 
quite  heedless  of  Frenchy's  dripping  oilskins. 

The  sailor  lifted  up  the  child  and  kissed  him, 
whereupon  he  grasped  the  man's  flaring  ears  as 
they  projected  from  the  huge  tangled  beard,  and 
with  a  burst  of  happy  laughter  kissed  him  on 
both  cheeks,  under  the  eyes,  in  the  only  bare 
places. 

We  hurried  on  and  soon  reached  one  of  the  few 
houses  distinguished  from  others  by  a  coat  of 
paint.  By  this  time  the  evening  was  near  at 
hand,  yet  the  darkness  would  not  have  justified 


42  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

as  yet  a  thrifty  Newfoundland  housewife  in 
burning  valuable  kerosene.  But  from  the  win- 
dows of  this  place  poured  forth  abundant  light 
showing  recklessness  as  to  expense.  Upon  the 
porch  were  a  few  feeble  geraniums,  and  some 
nasturtiums  and  bachelor's  buttons  twined  them- 
selves hopefully  on  strings  disposed  for  them. 

At  the  sound  of  our  footsteps  the  door  was 
quickly  opened.  A  young  woman  appeared  but 
the  light  was  behind  her  and  her  features  were 
not  very  distinct. 

"Couldn't  you  get  him*?"  she  cried,  in  sore  dis- 
appointment. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  That's  what  I  went  for,"  said 
Sammy.  "I  telled  yer  I'd  sure  bring  him,  and 
here  he  be." 

I  had  come  nearer,  and  then,  I  am  afraid,  I 
somewhat  forgot  my  manners  and  stared  at  her. 


CHAPTER  IV 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 
Dearest  Aunt  Jennie: 

I  did  try  so  hard  to  get  you  to  come  on  this  cruise 
with  us.  You  said  you  preferred  remaining  in 
Newport  to  sharing  in  a  wild  journey  to  places 
one  has  never  heard  of,  and  now  I  am  compelled 
to  recognize  your  superior  wisdom.  I  wish  we 
had  never  heard  of  this  dreadful  hole.  I  am  now 
reduced  to  the  condition  of  a  weepful  Niobe, 
utterly  helpless  to  contend  against  the  sad  trend 
of  events.  I  know  how  much  you  disapprove  of 
lingering,  being  such  an  active  little  body,  and 
so  I  will  tell  you  the  worst  at  once.  Poor  dear 
Daddy  has  just  broken  his  leg,  and,  of  all  places, 
in  the  most  forsaken  hole  and  corner  of  this 
dreary  island  of  Newfoundland. 

Daddy  has  always  boasted  of  his  perseverance 
in  the  pursuit  of  the  unusual  in  sport.  This  time 

43 


44  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

he  found  it  with  a  vengeance.  Our  mate,  who 
hails  from  these  parts,  once  told  him  of  this  place, 
and  implied  that  the  salmon  in  the  little  river 
running  down  into  this  cove  would  take  a  fly 
whether  awake  or  asleep,  and  jostled  one  another 
for  the  privilege.  While  Daddy  is  rather  fond 
of  a  gun,  you  and  I  know  that  there  are  only  two 
weapons  he  is  really  absorbed  in.  I  suppose  that 
the  first  is  the  instrument  he  uses  to  cut  off  cou- 
pons with,  and  the  next  is  his  salmon  rod, 
which  I  would  like  to  break  into  little  pieces,  for 
it  has  been  the  cause  of  turning  our  long  bow- 
sprit towards  this  horrid  jumble  of  rock  and  sea. 
I  considered  that  we  were  lucky  to  have  found  our 
way  into  Sweetapple  Cove  without  any  particular 
disaster,  but  of  course  such  luck  could  not  last 
long. 

We  ought  never  to  have  come  any  way,  for 
our  skipper,  the  descendant  of  Vikings,  had  im- 
plied that  our  schooner  was  in  need  of  all  sorts 
of  repairs,  and  that  sensible  people  did  not  start 
off  on  long  cruises  just  after  months  in  Florida 
which  had  converted  the  ship's  bottom  into  a  sort 
of  vegetable  garden.  Daddy  consoled  him  by 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  45 

telling  him  he  could  leave  us  there  and  go  off  to 
St.  John's  to  the  dry-dock. 

You  know  how  pleasantly  Daddy  speaks  to 
people,  and  how  they  detect  under  his  words  a 
firmness  which  effectively  prevents  long  discus- 
sion. Stefansson  is  really  a  racing  skipper,  but 
he  likes  his  berth  on  the  Snowbird  and  said  noth- 
ing more.  We  reached  this  place  where,  for 
lack  of  level  ground,  the  few  houses  use  all 
sorts  of  stilts  and  crutches,  and  invaded  the  vil- 
lage to  the  intense  amazement  of  the  populace 
and  its  dogs. 

Then  came  Daddy's  genius  for  organization. 
Within  two  hours  we  had  rented  a  little  house 
for  next  to  nothing  a  week,  furnished  it  in 
sixty  minutes  with  odds  and  ends  from  the 
yacht,  including  our  little  brass  bedsteads,  which 
the  people  here  firmly  believe  to  be  pure  gold. 
A  wild  daughter  of  the  Cove,  a  descendant  of  the 
family  that  gave  it  its  extraordinary  name,  was 
engaged  as  a  general  servant.  Daddy's  valet  and 
the  cook  had  wept  when  they  saw  the  place, 
and  Father  informed  them  that  they  were  rubbish 
and  might  go  back  with  the  Snowbird,  which 


46  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

presently  sailed  off  for  the  scraping  it  appears 
to  be  entitled  to. 

Daddy  at  once  selected  a  rod  with  all  the  care 
such  affairs  of  state  require,  and  set  forth  across 
the  cove  with  two  natives,  in  a  dory.  They  went 
ashore  on  the  banks  of  the  little  river  and  began 
to  clamber  over  a  terrific  jumble  of  rocks.  A 
salmon  was  caught  so  quickly  that  Father  grew 
boyish  with  enthusiasm  and  capered  over  more 
rocks. 

And  then  came  the  accident,  Aunt  Jennie,  and 
I  am  still  shaky,  and  tearful,  and  though  I  try  to 
write  like  a  normal  human  being  I  am  desirous  of 
shrieking.  There  was  just  a  slip  and  a  fall,  and 
a  foot  caught  between  two  boulders.  Poor 
Daddy  was  dragged  from  the  swift  water  into 
which  he  had  been  wading  and  placed  in  the 
bottom  of  the  dory,  a  most  damp  and  smelly  am- 
bulance. 

Of  course  I  dashed  down  to  the  shore  as  soon 
as  people  came  to  tell  me  what  had  happened,  and 
naturally  I  got  into  everybody's  way.  It  was 
strange  to  see  how  these  very  rough-looking  men 
took  hold  of  poor  Daddy.  They  were  just  as 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  47 

gentle  as  could  be,  and  made  an  arrangement  of 
fish-carrying  barrows  upon  which  they  lifted  him 
up  and  brought  him  to  the  house. 

I  was  weeping  all  this  time  and  Daddy  con- 
soled me  by  telling  me  not  to  be  a  fool.  Susie, 
our  new  handmaiden,  simply  howled.  We  were 
bundled  out,  chiefly  by  Daddy's  language,  and 
clamored  for  a  doctor.  It  actually  transpired 
that  there  was  one  in  the  place,  to  my  infinite  re- 
lief. The  fact  that  he  was  gone  to  a  little  island 
away  out  at  sea  appeared  to  be  but  an  insignifi- 
cant detail.  An  ancient  mariner  whom  Cole- 
ridge must  have  been  acquainted  with  promised  to 
go  and  bring  him  back.  If  the  weather  did  not 
turn  out  too  badly  he  would  return  in  three  or 
four  hours.  He  informed  me  that  it  was  be- 
ginning to  look  very  nasty  outside.  It  always 
does,  in  such  cases,  I  believe. 

I  spent  the  afternoon  trying  to  do  all  I  could 
for  Daddy,  and  occasionally  climbed  up  on  the 
cliff  nearly  adjoining  our  house,  to  watch  for  the 
boat.  An  abominable  fog  began  to  come  up, 
rolling  before  a  dreadful  wind,  and  I  moistened 
more  handkerchiefs,  since  it  was  perfectly  evi- 


48  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

dent  to  me  that  no  small  boat  would  ever  return 
to  land  in  such  a  blow.  Susie  told  me  that  I 
must  not  despair,  and  that  people  did  really  man- 
age to  work  fishing  boats  in  such  weather,  some- 
times. I  considered  her  to  be  a  cheerful  prevari- 
cator, and  told  her  she  didn't  know  what  she  was 
talking  about.  At  this  she  curtsied  humbly  and 
assented  with  the  "Yis,  ma'am"  of  the  lowly,  and 
all  I  could  do  was  to  keep  on  despairing. 

It  was  really  the  most  dismal  afternoon  I  ever 
spent,  and  when  it  began  to  get  dark  I  gave 
up  all  hope.  After  I  had  become  thoroughly 
saturated  with  misery  Susie  came  to  me,  grinning. 

"I's  heerd  men  a  comin',"  she  told  me.  "Like 
as  not  it's  th'  doctor." 

I  dashed  out  of  the  front  door  and  met  two 
dreadful  looking  creatures  in  oilskins.  As  one 
of  them  was  the  ancient  mariner  I  made  up  my 
mind  he  had  failed  in  his  mission.  But  the  other 
stared  at  me  for  an  instant,  quietly  stepped  on 
the  few  planks  we  call  the  porch,  and  began  to 
shed  his  outer  skin,  which  fell  with  a  flop. 

"Are  you  the  doctor1?"  I  finally  asked  him. 

He  bowed,  very  civilly,  followed  me  into  the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  49 

house,  and  the  other  man  placidly  sat  down  on 
the  porch,  while  the  slanting  rain  rattled  on  his 
armour.  I  need  hardly  tell  you  that  these  people 
are  as  amphibious  as  manatees. 

Once  within  doors  I  scrutinized  the  doctor. 
He  was  a  rather  nice  tall  chap  with  hair  showing 
slightly  the  dearth  of  barbers  in  Sweetapple  Cove, 
a  fact  Daddy  had  informed  himself  of,  for  I  had 
seen  him  looking  disconsolately  at  a  safety  razor. 
This  man  was  also  rather  badly  unshaven,  and  a 
blue  flannel  shirt  with  a  sodden  string  of  a  neck- 
tie formed  part  of  his  apparel.  I  have  seen 
healthy  longshoremen  rather  more  neatly  garbed. 
I'm  afraid  that  at  first  I  was  badly  disappointed. 

I  stood  at  the  door  of  father's  room,  which  is 
also  the  parlor  and  dining  room,  hesitating  fool- 
ishly. At  last  I  asked  the  man  to  come  in. 

"Daddy  dear,  here  is  the  doctor,"  I  said. 

You  know  that  father  does  not  consider  him- 
self merely  as  a  tax-payer,  and  a  connoisseur  in 
split  bamboos.  He  prides  himself  upon  his 
knowledge  of  men  and,  before  trusting  himself  to 
this  one,  had  to  study  him  carefully.  I  could  see 
that  he  was  taken  a  little  by  surprise. 


50  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"Er — er,"  he  hesitated,  "are  you  a  physician, 
sir?" 

"Appearances  are  deceptive  in  these  jumping- 
off  places,"  answered  the  young  man.  "I  possess 
a  diploma  or  two,  and  such  knowledge  as  I  have 
is  entirely  at  your  service." 

He  didn't  really  seem  to  be  at  all  embarrassed. 
His  look  was  rather  a  pleasant  one,  after  all, 
and  suddenly  I  became  inspired  with  confidence. 
I  think  Daddy  was  impressed  in  the  same 
way. 

"I'm  in  an  awful  fix,"  he  announced.  "I  am 
quite  sure  that  my  leg  is  broken,  and  of  course  it 
requires  the  very  best  attention.  I  can  afford  to 
take  no  chances  with  it  and  need  a  first-class  man. 
Are  you  quite  sure  .  .  .*?" 

The  doctor  sat  down  by  the  bed,  quietly,  and 
appeared  to  look  at  Daddy  understandingly.  He 
doubtless  realized  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of 
one  of  those  men  whose  success  in  life,  together 
with  the  possession  of  grand-parents,  causes  them 
to  regard  themselves  as  endowed  with  the  com- 
bined wisdom  of  the  law  and  the  prophets.  I  am 
quite  sure  that  he  also  detected  the  big  fund  of 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  51 

common  sense  which  lurks  in  the  keen  grey  eyes 
under  Daddy's  bushy  eye-brows. 

"You  have  my  deepest  sympathy,  Mr.  Jel- 
liffe,"  he  began.  "I  need  hardly  point  out  the 
fact  that  I  am  the  only  doctor  available.  I  am 
going  to  do  my  very  best  for  you.  They  have 
some  very  good  men  in  St.  John's,  and  we  may 
be  able  to  get  one  of  them  to  come  down  here,  in 
a  few  days,  to  look  over  my  work.  In  the  mean- 
while your  leg  must  be  attended  to  so  that  no 
further  harm  will  be  done.  Let  us  have  a  look  at 
it." 

"I'll  have  to  trust  you,"  said  Daddy,  very  so- 
berly. 

"Of  course  you  will  have  to,  Daddy,"  I  put 
in.  "You  must  be  very  good.  When  you  move 
your  poor  leg  hurts  you  dreadfully,  and  the  doc- 
tor will  fix  it  so  that  it  won't  be  so  painful." 

I  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bed  and  poor  Daddy 
allowed  me  to  stroke  his  hand,  a  thing  he  usually 
resents.  I  know  that  he  was  in  great  pain  and 
feared  other  unknown  tortures.  The  poor  man 
looked  at  the  tall  doctor's  big  hands  as  if  he 
deemed  them  instruments  of  potential  torture. 


52  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

One  really  couldn't  blame  him  for  having  scant 
confidence  in  a  man  whose  business  appears  to  be 
the  care  of  this  poverty-stricken  population. 

The  doctor  was  pulling  off  his  heavy  pea-jacket 
and  appeared  in  dark  blue  flannel  which  revealed 
very  capable  shoulders.  They  reminded  me  of 
Harry  Lawrence.  The  ancient  mariner  came  in 
with  a  bag  he  had  been  sent  for.  He  had  also 
deposited  his  oilskins  on  the  porch  and  respected 
other  conventionalities  by  removing  his  great 
muddy  boots  and  entering  the  room  in  huge  flam- 
ing scarlet  socks,  neatly  darned  with  white  yarn. 
He  smiled  blandly  at  Daddy. 

"Hope  you  is  feelin'  some  better,  sir,"  he  said. 
"Don't  you  be  talkin',  for  if  you  isn't  t'won't  be 
no  time  afore  you  is.  You're  sure  in  luck  as 
how  I  could  bring  him,  an'  I'll  jist  lay  yer  a 
quintal  as  how  he's  goin'  to  fix  yer  shipshape." 

Then  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  a  drip- 
ping woman  entered.  There  was  not  the  slight- 
est trace  of  timidity  in  her  manner.  Really, 
Aunt  Jennie,  I  thought  at  first  that  she  was  the 
most  awful  frump  I  had  ever  seen.  Her  head 
was  wrapped  in  a  soaking  little  shawl,  and  her 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  53 

dress  was  a  remnant  of  grand-mother's  days. 
Yet  the  poise  of  her  head,  the  pleasant  smile  upon 
her  face  and,  more  than  all,  her  delightful  voice, 
gave  an  immediate  hint  of  infinitely  good  breed- 
ing. 

"Can't  I  help?"  she  asked.  "I'd  be  awfully 
glad  to.  I  should  have  been  in  before  but  I  was 
detained  at  the  Burtons'.  Had  to  look  after  the 
woman  during  your  absence,  Dr.  Grant." 

"I  beg  to  introduce  the  providence  of  Sweet- 
apple  Cove,"  said  the  doctor.     "Mrs.  Barnett  is 
the  one  person  who  proves  the  vulgar  error  that 
none  of  us  is  indispensable." 
She  threw  off  her  shawl,  laughing. 

"The  doctor  and  I  often  hunt  in  couples,"  she 
explained. 

Her  voice  was  really  the  most  delightful  thing 
you  ever  heard.  I  forgot  her  clothes,  and  her 
big  boots,  and  went  up  to  her,  holding  out  my 
hand. 

"Won't  you  let  me  take  your  shawl*?"  I  asked. 
"It  is  sopping  wet." 

"I  had  an  umbrella  when  I  first  came  here," 
she  said,  "but  it  blew  over  the  cliffs  long  ago. 


54  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Thanks,  ever  so  much.  And  now  what  can  I 
do?" 

"You  are  always  on  hand  when  help  is  needed, 
Mrs.  Barnett,"  said  the  doctor.  "Thank  you  for 
coming.  I  shall  need  you  in  a  minute." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  little  friendly  nod  and 
went  to  the  bed: 

"I  hope  that  you  are  not  suffering  too  much," 
she  told  Daddy.  "Dr.  Grant  will  have  you  all 
right  in  a  jiffy." 

"Thank  you,  madam,"  said  Daddy,  staring  at 
her. 

The  doctor  had  been  pulling  endless  things  out 
of  his  bag.  For  all  of  their  size  his  hands  showed 
a  quality  of  gentle  firmness  that  was  quite  sur- 
prising and  Daddy,  under  his  ministrations,  ap- 
peared to  become  less  apprehensive. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Barnett,"  directed  Dr.  Grant. 
"One  hand  under  the  knee,  if  you  please,  and  the 
other  should  hold  the  heel.  That's  the  way." 

Rapidly  he  wound  some  cotton  batting  about 
the  injured  limb.  Daddy  had  given  one  awful 
groan  when  his  leg  was  pulled  straight,  but  now 
he  watched  the  winding  of  bandages  and  the  ap- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  55 

plication  of  plaster  of  Paris  without  saying  a 
word.  The  doctor  finally  rubbed  the  whole  thing 
smooth. 

"That's  all  right  now,"  he  said.  "We  will  let 
the  leg  down  again." 

Between  them  they  gently  lowered  the  limb 
upon  a  hollowed  pillow,  and  Daddy  looked  much 
relieved. 

"That  is  all  for  the  present,"  said  the  doctor. 
"I  hope  we  didn't  hurt  you  too  much,  Mr.  Jel- 
liffe." 

"I  think  it  will  be  easier  now,"  admitted 
Daddy.  "I  can't  say  that  you  made  me  suffer 
very  much.  I  am  obliged  to  you,  and  also  to  you, 
madam." 

She  treated  him  to  a  gentle,  motherly  smile,  and 
grabbed  her  old  wet  shawl  again. 

"I'd  be  ever  so  glad  to  stay  with  you  all  night," 
she  said,  "but  unfortunately  one  of  my  kiddies  is 
teething  and  wants  me  rather  badly.  May  I  call 
in  the  morning*?" 

By  this  time  father  was  utterly  captured. 

"You  would  be  ever  so  kind,"  he  said.  "I  can 
hardly  thank  you  sufficiently." 


56  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

She  refused  proffers  of  umbrellas  and  water- 
proofs, laughingly  saying  that  she  could  not  reach 
home  much  wetter  than  she  was,  and  disappeared. 

"Our  parson's  wife,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  explained 
Dr.  Grant,  "and  the  nearest  thing  to  a  blessing 
that  Swe^tapple  Cove  has  ever  known,  I  should 
say." 

"She  must  be,"  I  assented.  "She  is  perfectly 
charming." 

Then  he  went  in  the  next  room,  where  the  mar- 
iner was  waiting,  sitting  in  a  chair  and  contem- 
plating his  red  socks. 

"We're  off  again  to-morrow  morning  to  Will's 
Island,"  said  the  doctor.  "Just  let  Frenchy 
know,  will  you"?  We  shall  start  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble after  I  have  found  out  how  Mr.  Jelliffe  has 
passed  the  night." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  replied  the  old  man,  lifting  a 
gnarled  hand  to  his  tousled  locks. 

The  doctor  looked  around  him.  His  big  frame 
seemed  to  relax,  and  a  compelling  yawn  forced 
him  to  lift  his  hand  to  his  mouth.  Then  he  came 
in  again. 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Jelliffe,"  he  said.     "I'll  be 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  57 

here  the  first  thing  in  the  morning.  You  may 
take  this  little  tablet  if  the  pain  is  severe,  but 
don't  touch  it  unless  you  are  really  compelled 
to." 

Daddy  stretched  out  his  hand,  in  a  very 
friendly  way,  and  he  certainly  looked  approv- 
ingly at  the  young  man.  Then  I  accompanied 
the  latter  to  the  outer  door.  It  was  still  rain- 
ing and  the  wind  blew  hard. 

"Good  night,  Miss  JellifTe,"  he  bade  me. 
"Your  father's  injury  is  quite  a  simple  one 
and  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall  obtain  a  good  re- 
sult." 

He  picked  up  his  oilskins  and  put  them  on 
again. 

"Thank  you,"  was  all  I  could  find  to  say.  His 
long  steps  rapidly  carried  him  away  and  he  dis- 
appeared in  the  misty  blackness. 

When  I  returned  the  old  fisherman,  whose  name 
is  Sammy,  was  standing  by  father's  bed. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  complained  Daddy,  "that  he 
might  have  offered  to  stay  with  me  all  night.  I 
call  it  rather  inconsiderate  of  him." 

"We  is  fixed  fer  that,  sir,"  asserted  Captain 


58  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Sammy.  "I  be  goin'  ter  stay  wid'  yer.  I'll  jist 
set  down  by  the  stove  and,  case  I  should  git  ter 
sleep,  jist  bawl  out  or  heave  somethin'  at  me. 
First  I'll  go  an'  git  a  bite  er  grub,  jist  a  spud 
er  two  an'  a  dish  o'  tea;  likely  th'  old  woman  has 
some  brooze  fer  me,  waitin'.  I'll  be  back  so  soon 
ye'll  hardly  know  I  been  gone." 

He  looked  at  us,  his  kindly  old  face  lighting  up 
into  a  smile.  Then  he  pointed  with  a  stubby 
thumb  in  the  direction  the  doctor  had  taken. 

"He've  been  up  three  nights  a-savin'  Dick 
Will's  arm,  as  means  the  livin'  o'  he  and  the 
woman  an'  seven  young  'uns.  I  mistrust  he'll 
maybe  fall  asleep  a-walkin'  less  he  hurries.  'Tis 
a  feel  in'  I  knows,  keepin'  long  watches  on  deck 
when  things  goes  hard." 

"But  I  can  watch  my  father,"  I  protested. 

"So  yer  could,  fer  a  fact,"  he  admitted,  "but 
yer  couldn't  run  out  handy  an'  fetch  doctor,  so  I 
might  as  well  stay  here  an'  ye  kin  do  a  job  of 
sleepin'." 

As  he  hurried  out  Susie  came  in  from  the 
kitchen,  buxom  and  rosy  of  cheek. 

"Th'  kittle's  biled  ef  you  is  ready,"  she  an- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  59 

nounced.     "Yer  must  be  a-perishin'  fer  a  sup  an' 
a  bite." 

I  shall  have  to  stop  now,  Aunt  Jennie  dear, 
and  goodness  knows  when  this  will  reach  you,  as 
mails  are  very  movable  feasts. 

But  it  has  been  a  comfort  to  write,  and  I  was 
too  nervous  and  excited  to  go  to  sleep,  for  a  long 
time.  I  really  think  I  ought  to  go  to  bed  now. 
That  doctor  is  really  a  very  nice  young  man,  and 
I  just  love  Mrs.  Barnett.  Any  one  would. 

Please  write  as  often  as  possible,  for  now  we 
are  prisoners  for  goodness  knows  how  long  in  this 
place,  and  your  letters  will  be  worth  their  weight 
in  precious  stones.  Tell  me  all  that  is  happening. 
Have  you  heard  from  Harry  Lawrence  lately? 

Your  loving 

HELEN. 


CHAPTER  V 

[From  John  Grant's  Diary 

WHEN  I  awoke  this  morning,  I  was  inclined  to 
pinch  myself,  wondering  whether  I  was  still 
dreaming.  In  a  moment,  however,  my  recollec- 
tions were  perfectly  clear.  Yesterday  evening  I 
met  people  such  as  I  should  no  more  have  ex- 
pected to  find  in  Sweetapple  Cove  than  in  the 
mountains  of  the  moon.  I  am  glad  that  my  idea 
in  coming  here  was  not  to  convert  myself  into  a 
hermit;  I  am  afraid  I  should  have  been  sadly 
disappointed.  Mr.  Jelliffe  is  a  man  just  beyond 
middle  age,  shrewd  and  inclined  to  good  na- 
ture. His  daughter,  like  the  rest  of  her  sex,  is 
probably  a  problem,  but  so  far  I  can  only  dis- 
cover in  her  an  exceedingly  nice  young  lady  who 
dotes  on  her  father  and  takes  rather  a  sensible 
view  of  things. 

It  appears  that  they  have  been  all  over  the 
world  and,  like  experienced  travelers,  understand 

60 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  61 

exceedingly  well  the  art  of  adapting  oneself  to 
all  manners  of  surroundings.  In  no  time  at  all 
they  had  transformed  their  ugly  little  house  into 
quite  a  decent  dwelling. 

Miss  Jelliffe  is  a  decidedly  attractive  young 
woman.  Of  course  I  can  only  compare  her  with 
Dora  Maclennon.  They  belong  to  two  different 
types.  The  one  is  a  bustling  little  woman,  very 
earnest,  determined  and  hard-working,  who  looks 
to  the  world  for  something  which  must  as  yet  be 
rather  indefinitely  shaped  in  her  mind,  and  who 
is  going  to  find  it.  The  other,  I  should  say,  has 
no  cut  and  dried  aim  or  ambition.  Her  father 
or  grandfather  achieved  everything  for  her,  and 
she  is  as  free  as  air  to  follow  her  every  inclination. 
Both  are  unquestionably  good  to  look  upon,  and, 
at  least  for  the  present,  I  hope  it  may  not  be 
treasonable  to  say  that  Miss  Jelliffe  is  the  more 
restful  of  the  two.  We  men  are  apt  to  think 
that  the  privilege  of  striving  and  pushing  for- 
ward should  be  exclusively  ours,  and  when  we 
see  a  woman  occupied  with  something  of  that  sort 
we  are  somewhat  apt  to  resent  it  as  an  unjustifia- 
ble poaching  in  our  preserves.  For  a  long  time  I 


68  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

considered  Dora's  efforts  to  be  something  in  the 
nature  of  growing  pains,  which  would  disappear 
in  the  course  of  time.  Now  I  am  not  so  sure  of 
this.  Yet  when  I  think  of  the  dear  little  girl  my 
heart  beats  faster,  and  somehow  I  persist  in  be- 
lieving that  a  day  will  come  when  she  will  drift 
towards  me,  and  we  will  tackle  the  further  prob- 
lems of  life  together. 

I  must  confess  I  am  glad  to  have  met  the  Jel- 
lifies. Barnett  and  his  wife  have  been  the  only 
people  with  whom  one  could  exchange  ideas  un- 
connected with  codfish.  The  parson  is  a  splendid 
little  chap,  utterly  cocksure  of  a  lot  of  things  I 
take  good  care  not  to  discuss  too  deeply  with  him. 
Moreover  he  is  away  a  good  part  of  the  time, 
and  composes  his  sermons  with  a  painstaking  care 
which  must  be  somewhat  wasted  on  Sweetapple 
Cove.  I  don't  believe  the  people  are  really  in- 
terested in  the  meaning  of  Greek  texts.  When 
he  is  in  the  throes  of  inspiration  none  dare  go 
near  him  and  Mrs.  Barnett,  the  good  soul,  walks 
on  tiptoe  and  hushes  her  brood.  I  only  meet 
her  at  various  sick-beds.  In  her  own  home  she 
is  so  tremendously  busy  that  I  feel  I  have  no  right 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  63 

to  trespass  too  often.  The  baby  requires  a  lot 
of  care,  and  there  are  lessons  to  the  others,  and 
family  sewing,  and  keeping  an  eye  upon  the  little 
servant.  Worshipping  her  husband  takes  up  the 
rest  of  her  time. 

After  I  had  my  breakfast  I  left  Sammy's  house, 
where  I  have  an  office  which  would  astonish  some 
of  my  New  York  friends.  I  had  scraped  my  face 
and  put  on  fairly  decent  clothing  in  deference  not 
only  to  my  own  preferences  but  also  to  the  feel- 
ings of  the  newcomers. 

I  was  hardly  out  of  the  house  before  Sammy's 
wife  came  running  after  me. 

"You's  forgot  your  mitts,"  she  cried.  "Here 
they  is.  I  hung  'em  up  back  o'  th'  stove  ter  dry. 
It's  like  ter  be  cold  at  sea  an'  ye'll  be  wantin' 
them." 

I  thanked  the  good  woman,  telling  her  that  I 
could  afford  to  be  careless  since  I  had  her  to  look 
after  me. 

"Oh !  Don't  be  talkin',"  she  answered,  highly 
pleased. 

I  stopped  for  a  moment  to  light  my  pipe.  Mrs. 
Sammy  was  now  calling  upon  her  offspring  to 


64  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

hasten,  for  it  was  a  fair  drying  day.  The  sun 
was  out  and  the  ripples  glimmered  brightly  over 
the  cove.  The  people  were  climbing  up  on  their 
flakes,  tall  scaffolds  built  on  a  foundation  of  slen- 
der poles,  and  were  spreading  out  the  split, 
flattened  codfish,  that  would  have  to  dry  many 
days  before  it  would  be  fit  to  trade  or  sell. 
Everywhere  in  the  settlement  women  and  chil- 
dren, and  a  few  old  men  unfit  for  harder  labor, 
were  engaged  in  the  same  back-breaking  occupa- 
tion. The  spreading  out  always  seems  easy 
enough,  for  they  deal  out  the  fishy  slabs  as  cards 
are  thrown  upon  a  table,  but  the  picking  and  turn- 
ing are  arduous  for  ancient  spines  stiffened  by 
years  of  toil. 

I  also  looked  out  upon  the  cove,  where  a  few 
men  in  dories  were  engaged  in  jigging  for  squid, 
pulling  in  the  wriggling  things  which  had  been  at- 
tracted by  a  piece  of  red  rag,  their  tentacles  caught 
upon  the  upturned  needles  of  the  jig.  They  were 
dropped  with  a  sharp,  jerky  motion  on  the  slimy 
mass  of  their  fellows,  all  blotched  with  the  inky 
discharge.  Out  beyond  the  rocky  headlands,  in 
the  open  sea,  the  little  two-masted  smacks  were 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  65 

hurrying  to  anchor  or  already  bobbing  up  and 
down  with  furled  canvas,  rising,  falling  and  yaw- 
ing to  the  pull  of  the  sea.  At  times,  by  looking 
sharply,  one  could  catch  the  gleam  of  a  fish  being 
pulled  in,  and  sometimes  one  could  hear  the 
muffled  thump  of  the  muckle,  when  the  fish  was 
a  big  one. 

The  air  was  good  indeed  to  breathe.  The  dull 
griminess  of  the  village,  so  utterly  dismal  in  the 
rain  and  fog  of  yesterday,  had  given  place  to 
something  akin  to  cheerfulness.  On  the  tops  of 
the  cliffs  the  scanty  herbage,  closely  cropped  by 
the  goats,  was  very  green,  of  the  deep  beautiful 
hue  one  only  finds  in  lands  drenched  by  frequent 
downpours.  The  sea  was  restless  with  long  gen- 
tle swells  which  now  only  broke  when  they 
reached  the  bottoms  of  the  rocks  which  they 
pounded,  intermittently,  with  great  puffs  of  white 
spray. 

The  goats  were  briskly  clambering  among  the 
boulders ;  the  dogs  looked  cheerful ;  the  few  chick- 
ens, no  longer  sad  and  bedraggled,  scratched  with 
renewed  energy.  At  the  entrance  of  the  cove  a 
few  gannets  wheeled,  heavily,  while  further  away 


66  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

a  troop  of  black-headed  terns  screamed  and  darted 
about,  gracefully,  on  long,  slender,  swallow-like 
pinions. 

Even  the  houses,  bathed  in  rejuvenating  sun- 
light, looked  more  attractive.  A  few  poor  flow- 
ers in  rare  window-boxes  perked  up  their  heads. 
The  puddles  in  the  road  were  draining  off  into 
rocky  crannies,  and  the  very  air  seemed  to  have 
been  washed  of  some  of  its  all-pervading  reek  of 
fish. 

I  was  thoroughly  refreshed  after  a  night  during 
which  I  had  slept  so  soundly  that  Mrs.  Sammy, 
obeying  instructions,  had  been  compelled  to  enter 
my  room  and  regretfully  shake  me  into  conscious- 
ness. Then  I  had  poured  much  cold  water  over 
myself  and  used  my  best  razor.  Coffee  and  pan- 
cakes, with  large  rashers  of  bacon,  were  awaiting 
me,  and  I  soon  departed  for  the  home  of  my  new 
patient.  Children  called  good  morning,  and  a 
few  ancient  dames  too  old  even  for  work  upon 
the  flakes  nodded  their  palsied  heads  at  me. 

The  house  tenanted  by  the  Jelliffes  belongs 
to  a  man  who  is  off  to  the  Labrador,  trapping  cod 
with  a  crew  of  sons  and  neighbors.  His  wife 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  67 

has  been  only  too  glad  to  rent  it  to  these  very 
grand  people  from  that  amazing  yacht,  who  have 
come  all  the  way  from  New  York,  to  the  won- 
derment of  the  whole  population,  for  the  mere 
purpose  of  catching  salmon.  Her  eldest  daugh- 
ter has  been  engaged  as  maid  of  all  work  by  the 
tenants,  and  will  doubtless  compensate,  in  cheer- 
ful willingness,  for  her  utterly  primitive  idea  of 
the  duties  incumbent  upon  her. 

Miss  Jelliffe  was  sitting  upon  the  porch. 
Wisps  of  her  rich  chestnut  hair  were  being  blown 
about  by  the  pleasant  breeze,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  her  white  shirtwaist  with  the  rather 
mannish  collar  and  tie,  the  tweed  skirt  with  wide 
leather  belt,  and  the  serviceable  low  tanned  shoes 
made  a  vision  such  as  I  had  not  expected  to  be- 
hold in  Sweetapple  Cove. 

She  smiled  brightly  as  I  came  up  and  bade  me 
good  morning.  Her  pretty  face  had  lost  the  wor- 
ried, tearful  look  of  the  day  before.  I  expressed 
the  hope  that  her  father  had  been  able  to  obtain 
some  rest. 

"I  am  under  the  impression  that  Daddy  slept 
rather  better  than  I  could,"  she  answered,  cheer- 


68  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

fully.  "Such  a  concert  as  I  was  treated  to!  I 
had  always  had  an  idea  that  my  father  was  rather 
appalling,  but  your  ancient  sea-faring  friend  was 
positively  extraordinary.  After  you  left  I  read 
just  a  little  to  Daddy,  and  the  hypnotic  quality 
of  my  voice  had  rapid  effect.  After  this  Captain 
Sammy  curled  up  on  the  floor,  just  like  one  of 
the  local  dogs,  and  spurned  my  offer  of  rugs  and 
pillows  with  the  specious  excuse  that  if  he  made 
himself  too  comfortable  and  chanced  to  fall 
asleep  he  would  never  wake  up.  I  went  to  my 
room  to  write  a  letter  and  presently  the  walls  be- 
gan to  shake.  You  never  heard  such  a  duet." 

"Is  Mr.  Jelliffe  still  asleep4?"  I  asked. 

"No,  indeed!  He  has  already  clamored  for 
his  breakfast  and  is  at  present  occupied  with  a 
bowl  of  oatmeal  and  some  coffee." 

Just  then  Frenchy  came  up,  lifting  his  cap  to 
the  young  lady.  In  one  of  his  big  paws  he  held 
his  little  boy's  hand. 

"Tak  aff  you  cap  to  ze  yong  lady  lak  I  tole 
you,"  he  said,  gravely.  "Heem  tink  you  a  leetle 
sauvage" 

The  wide-eyed  little  chap  obeyed  the  big  sailor, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  69 

his  yellow  curls  falling  over  his  eyes.  He  con- 
tinued to  stare  at  her,  with  a  fat  thumb  tucked  in 
a  corner  of  his  mouth. 

"Me  come  say  heem  Beel  Atkins  heem  go  aff  to 
St.  Jean  to-day.  Heem  got  load  of  feesh." 

"That  is  important  news,  Miss  Jelliffe.  Civ- 
ilization is  opening  its  arms  to  you,"  I  told  her. 
"Atkins  can  take  letters  and  messages  for  you, 
and  may  be  trusted  to  bring  back  anything  you 
need,  providing  you  write  it  all  down  carefully. 
This  is  also  an  opportunity  of  obtaining  other 
surgical  advice  for  your  father." 

"I  need  a  lot  of  things,"  she  exclaimed,  "and 
there  will  be  a  message  to  our  captain  to  hurry 
matters  at  that  dry-dock.  But  I  will  have  to  con- 
sult my  father." 

"We  go  to-day?"  Yves  asked  me,  pointing  to- 
wards Will's  Island. 

"Yes,  Dick  needs  a  lot  of  care  yet,"  I  answered. 
"But  you  will  wait  here  and  take  some  orders  to 
Atkins  first." 

"Oui,  orright,  me  wait,"  he  said. 

Miss  Jelliffe  had  gone  indoors  and  the  man 
sat  down  on  the  porch,  with  the  little  chap  be- 


70  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

side  him,  and  they  gravely  watched  the  gulls  cir- 
cling over  the  water.  Yves  is  very  big  and  rough 
looking,  and  his  black  beard  is  impressive.  He 
gives  one  rather  the  idea  of  what  the  men  must 
have  been,  who  manned  the  ships  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  than  the  notion  of  a  conventional 
Frenchman.  Yet  there  is  in  him  something  very 
soft  and  tender,  which  appears  when  he  looks  at 
that  child,  with  deep  dark  eyes  that  always  seem 
to  behold  things  beyond  the  ordinary  ranges  of 
vision. 

"Ah!  Glad  to  see  you!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jel- 
liffe  as  I  entered  the  room.  "A  broken  leg  is  no 
fun,  but  I  can  say  that  I  got  on  rather  better  than 
I  expected  to.  The  pain  has  been  no  more  than 
I  can  stand.  I'll  be  through  with  this  in  a  min- 
ute." 

He  swallowed  his  last  mouthful  of  coffee,  and 
Susie  Sweetapple,  the  improvised  domestic,  took 
away  a  flat  board  with  which  she  had  made  a 
tray. 

"Is  you  real  sure  you  got  enough1?"  she  en- 
quired solicitously.  "Them  porridges  doesn't 
stick  long  to  folks'  ribs,  but  if  yer  stummick  gits 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  71 

ter  teasin'  yer  afore  dinner  time  jist  bawl  out. 
'Tain't  never  no  trouble  ter  bile  th'  kittle  again." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Jelliffe,  as  the  girl  left 
the  room.  "I  have  not  yet  decided,  Doctor, 
whether  that  young  female  is  an  unmitigated  nui- 
sance or  a  pearl  of  great  price.  At  any  rate  we 
couldn't  get  along  without  her." 

In  a  few  minutes  I  was  allowed  to  inspect  the 
broken  leg,  which  was  resting  properly  on  the  pil- 
low. The  swelling  was  not  too  great,  and  the 
patient  declared  that  the  confounded  thing  was 
doubtless  as  comfortable  as  such  a  beastly  affair 
could  be.  Mr.  Jelliffe  possesses  some  notions  of 
philosophy. 

"A  schooner  is  leaving  to-day  for  St.  John's, 
Mr.  Jelliffe,"  I  told  him.  "It  will  return  in  a 
few  days,  depending  on  the  weather,  and  we  could 
probably  prevail  upon  one  of  the  best  surgeons 
there  to  come  back  with  it." 

My  patient's  eyes  narrowed  a  little  and  he 
wrinkled  his  brow.  He  was  looking  at  me 
keenly,  like  one  long  accustomed  to  gauging 
men  with  the  utmost  care. 

"What  is  your  own  advice?"  he  finally  asked. 


72  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

I  could  not  help  smiling  a  little. 

"Your  fracture  is  not  at  all  a  complicated  af- 
fair, and  it  looks  to  me  as  if  the  ends  could  easily 
be  maintained  in  proper  position.  On  the  other 
hand  I  am  still  a  young  man,  and  desire  to  make 
no  special  claim  to  eminence  in  my  profession." 

"At  any  rate  you  are  the  local  doctor." 

"I  suppose  I  represent  all  that  this  community 
can  afford,"  I  replied.  "If  I  were  you  I  would 
send  for  a  consultant." 

"The  community  doesn't  seem  to  me  to  be  so 
very  badly  off,  as  far  as  its  doctor  is  concerned," 
said  Mr.  Jelliffe,  slowly.  "The  other  chap  will 
come  and  undo  this  thing,  and  hurt  me  a  lot  more. 
I'm  inclined  to  let  things  slide.  This  practice  of 
yours  ought  to  be  a  great  thing  for  a  stout  man 
needing  a  reducing  diet.  How  the  deuce  do  you 
keep  from  starving  to  death*?" 

"Mrs.  Sammy  feeds  me  rather  well,"  I  replied. 

My  patient  smiled. 

"You're  a  smart  boy,"  he  said.  "I'll  admit 
you  don't  look  very  hungry.  But  how  about  the 
appetite  for  other  things,  for  success  in  life,  for 
the  appreciation  of  intelligent  men  and  for  their 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  73 

companionship?  Is  there  no  danger  of  what  you 
fellows  call  atrophy?  Men's  intellects  can  only 
maintain  a  proper  level  by  rubbing  up  against 
others." 

For  a  moment  he  stopped,  and  then  went  on 
again. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Doctor.  I'm  afraid  that 
all  this  is  none  of  my  business.  I  am  sure  you 
will  take  excellent  care  of  me,  and  I  don't  see  the 
need  of  sending  for  any  one  else." 

"I  will  do  my  best  for  you,  Mr.  Jelliffe,"  I  an- 
swered. 

He  held  his  hand  out  to  me,  in  the  friendliest 
way.  I  think  we  are  going  to  get  on  together 
very  well.  It  is  pleasant  to  meet  people  who 
are  so  secure  in  their  position  that  they  do  not 
feel  the  slightest  need  for  snobbishness. 

I  soon  left  for  Will's  Island,  where  I  remained 
for  some  hours.  Frenchy's  boy  came  with  us. 
He's  a  lovable  little  fellow,  and  manifested  his 
admiration  for  "la  belle  dame"  as  he  calls  Miss 
Jelliffe.  He  is  an  infant  of  discriminating  taste. 

It  was  very  encouraging  to  note  a  real  improve- 
ment in  the  fisherman's  condition,  and  I  returned 


74.  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

in  a  cheerful  state  of  mind.  In  the  afternoon  I 
again  called  on  the  Jellifies,  and  was  chatting 
with  the  old  gentleman  when  Mrs.  Barnett,  with 
her  two  oldest  clinging  to  her  skirts,  put  her  head 
in  at  the  door  and  cheerfully  asked  how  the  in- 
valid was  getting  on. 

"I  won't  come  in,"  she  said,  "my  little  chaps 
would  soon  turn  the  place  upside  down." 

"Do  bring  them  in,"  urged  Miss  Jelliffe. 
"Daddy  is  ever  so  fond  of  children." 

The  parson's  wife  accepted  the  invitation. 

"I  daresay  I  will  be  able  to  hold  them  in  for 
a  few  minutes,"  she  said. 

Miss  Jelliffe  is  certainly  a  bright  girl.  I  am 
positive  that  she  recognized  at  once  in  Mrs.  Bar- 
nett a  woman  who  would  adorn  any  gathering 
of  refined  people.  The  homemade  dress  mattered 
nothing,  nor  the  garb  of  the  little  ones,  which 
showed  infinite  toil  combined  with  scanty  means 
for  accomplishment.  It  was  delightful  to  ob- 
serve the  positive  deference  and  admiration  that 
were  mingled  with  the  perfect  ease  of  the  young 
woman's  manner. 

At  their  mother's  bidding  the  little  fellows  said 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  75 

their  greeting  very  politely.  Miss  JellifTe  kissed 
them  and  at  once  insured  their  further  behavior 
by  sitting  on  the  floor  with  them,  armed  with 
chocolates  and  magazine  pictures. 

"You  are  exceedingly  kind  to  visit  us,  Mrs. 
Barnett,"  Mr.  Jelliffe  assured  her.  "I  hope  I  may 
have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  your  husband  soon." 

"I  expect  him  back  to-morrow,"  she  answered. 
"He's  away  on  a  short  trip.  Sometimes  he  goes 
quite  a  distance  up  and  down  the  coast,  and  occa- 
sionally it  is — it  is  rather  hard  at  home,  when  the 
weather  gets  very  bad." 

She  looked  out  of  the  window,  with  a  move- 
ment that  was  nearly  mechanical,  and  which  had 
become  habitual  during  long  hours  of  waiting. 

"But  he  likes  it,"  she  continued.  "He  says 
it  is  a  good  work  and  makes  one  feel  that  one  is 
worth  one's  bread  and  salt.  And  so,  of  course, 
we  are  very  happy." 

I  noticed  that  Miss  Jelliffe  was  studying 
her.  A  look  of  wonder  seemed  to  be  rising  on 
the  girl's  face,  as  if  it  surprised  her  to  find  that 
this  cultured,  refined  woman  could  be  contented 
in  such  a  place. 


76  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"Yes,  I  think  I  am  getting  along  very  well," 
said  Mr.  Jelliffe,  in  answer  to  a  question.  "This 
young  man  seems  to  know  his  business.  I  was 
just  hinting  to  him,  this  morning,  that  such  a 
village  as  this  can  offer  but  a  poor  scope  for  his 
ability." 

"Gracious !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Barnett,  laugh- 
ingly. "Please  don't  let  him  hear  you.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  what  you  say  is  perfectly  true,  but 
we  could  never  do  without  him  now.  He  has 
only  been  here  a  short  time,  and  it  has  made  such 
a  difference.  Before  that  we  had  no  doctor,  and 
— and  it  was  awful,  sometimes.  You  can't  re- 
alize how  often  Mr.  Barnett  and  I  have  stood 
helplessly  by  some  bedside,  wringing  our  hands 
and  wishing  so  hard,  so  dreadfully  hard,  for  a 
man  like  Dr.  Grant  to  help  us.  Once  we 
sent  for  a  doctor,  far  away,  and  he  came  as 
soon  as  he  could,  but  my  little  Lottie  was  al- 
ready .  .  ." 

A  spasm  of  pain  passed  over  her  face,  and  there 
was  a  quickly  indrawn  breath.  Then  she  was 
quiet  again. 

"I  hope  he  will  never  leave  us,"  she  said.     "He 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  77 

may  miss  many  things  here,  but  it  is  a  man's 
work." 

"I  don't  feel  like  leaving,"  I  told  her,  and  she 
rewarded  me  by  one  of  those  charming  smiles  of 
hers. 

Presently  she  took  leave,  and  Miss  Jelliffe 
looked  at  her  father. 

"Isn't  she  wonderful !"  she  exclaimed.  "I  can 
hardly  understand  it  at  all." 

"It  isn't  only  in  the  big  places  that  people  do 
big  things,"  he  answered.  "What  about  that 
child  she  referred  to,  Doctor4?" 

I  told  him  how  the  little  one  had  been  taken 
ill,  and  how  they  had  been  obliged  to  take  her 
to  the  head  of  the  cove,  over  the  ice,  until  they 
were  able  to  find  a  place  where  a  pick  could  bite 
into  the  ground.  Miss  Jelliffe  stared  at  me,  as 
I  spoke,  and  I  could  see  her  beautiful  eyes  be- 
coming shiny  with  gathering  tears. 

On  the  next  day,  as  I  was  doing  something  to 
the  plaster  dressing,  she  came  into  the  room,  hur- 
riedly. 

"I've  been  out  there,"  she  said.  "What  a 
poor  desolate  place  in  which  to  leave  one's  loved 


78  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

ones.  Won't  you  let  me  help?  I  think  I  am 
getting  on  very  well  with  my  untrained  nursing. 
I  want  as  much  practice  as  I  can  get." 

"I  am  bound  hand  and  foot,"  complained  the 
patient.  "These  women  are  taking  all  sorts  of 
unfair  advantages  of  me.  And,  by  the  way, 
Helen,  I  want  you  to  go  out  more.  You  are  re- 
maining indoors  so  much  that  you  are  beginning 
to  lose  all  your  fine  color." 

"I  look  like  an  Indian,"  she  protested  laugh- 
ing. 

"Then  I  don't  want  you  to  get  bleached  out. 
You  must  go  out  walking  more,  or  try  some  fish- 
ing, but  be  careful  about  those  slippery  rocks.  I 
can  play  no  other  part  now  than  that  of  a  dread- 
ful example." 

"I  am  not  going  to  budge  from  this  room,"  de- 
clared Miss  Jelliffe.  "You  know  that  you  can't 
get  along  without  me.  Besides,  there  are  no 
places  that  one  can  walk  to." 

"I  insist  that  you  must  get  plenty  of  fresh  air," 
persisted  her  father. 

"There  is  no  fresh  air  here,"  she  objected.  "It 
is  a  compound  of  oxygen,  nitrogen  and  fish, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  79 

mostly  very  ripe  fish.  One  has  to  breathe  cod, 
and  eat  it,  and  quintals  are  the  only  subjects  of 
conversation.  Codfish  of  assorted  sizes  flop  up 
in  one's  dreams.  Last  night  one  of  them,  about 
the  length  of  a  whale,  apparently  mistook  me  for 
a  squid,  or  some  such  horrid  thing,  and  was  in 
the  very  act  of  swallowing  me  when  I  awoke. 
Pm  afraid,  Daddy  dear,  that  the  fresh  air  of 
Sweetapple  Cove  is  a  dreadful  fiction.  But  it 
must  be  lovely  outside." 

She  was  looking  through  the  door,  which  stood 
widely  opened,  towards  the  places  where  the  long 
smooth  rollers  broke  upon  the  rocks,  and  beyond 
them  at  brown  sails  and  screaming  birds  darting 
about  in  quest  of  prey. 

"You  are  hungering  for  a  breath  of  the 
sea,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  I  told  her.  "Sammy  and 
Frenchy  are  waiting  for  me  to  go  to  Will's  Island 
again.  With  this  wind  it  will  be  only  a  matter 
of  three  or  four  hours  there  and  back.  Could  you 
stand  a  trip  in  a  fishing  boat*?" 

"Just  the  thing  for  her.  No  danger,  is  there, 
Doctor?"  asked  Mr.  Jelliffe. 

"Not  on  a  day  like  this,"  I  replied. 


80  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Miss  Jelliffe  made  a  few  further  objections, 
which  were  quickly  overruled.  Finally  she  gave 
Susie  all  sorts  of  directions,  kissed  her  father  af- 
fectionately, and  was  ready  to  go. 

"We'll  be  back  soon,  Daddy.  You  are  a  dear 
to  be  always  thinking  about  me.  I  know  I  am 
very  mean  to  leave  you." 

"The  young  lady'll  be  well  took  care  of,  sir," 
declared  Captain  Sammy,  who  had  come  in  to  say 
that  the  boat  was  ready. 

So  we  went  down  to  the  cove  where  Frenchy, 
already  apprised  that  such  a  distinguished  pas- 
senger was  coming,  was  feverishly  scrubbing  the 
craft  and  soaking  the  footboards,  endeavoring, 
with  scant  success,  to  remove  all  traces  of  fish  and 
bait. 

"It's  dreadful,  isn't  it1?"  said  Miss  Jelliffe  as 
we  passed  by  the  fishhouses.  "I  know  that  when 
I  get  back  home  I  shall  never  eat  another  fish- 
cake. And  just  look  at  the  awful  swarms  of  flies 
and  blue-bottles.  And  the  smell  of  it  all!  It 
is  all  undoubtedly  picturesque,  but  it  is  unspeaka- 
bly smelly." 

The  men  were  busily  working,  and  girls  and 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  81 

boys  of  all  sizes,  and  one  heard  the  sound  of 
sharp  knives  ripping  the  fish,  and  the  whirring 
of  grindstones,  and  the  flopping  of  offal  in  the 
water.  These  people  were  clad  in  ancient  oil- 
skins, stiff  and  evil  with  blood  and  slime,  but 
they  lifted  gruesome  hands  to  their  forelocks  as 
Miss  Jelliffe  went  by  and  she  did  her  best  to  smile 
in  answer. 

"Couldn't  they  be  taught  to  be  a  little 
cleaner*?"  she  asked  me.  "Isn't  it  awfully  un- 
healthy for  them*?" 

"It  is  rather  bad,"  I  admitted,  "and  they  are 
always  cutting  their  hands  and  fingers  and  get- 
ting abominably  infected  sores.  They  only  come 
to  me  when  they  are  in  a  more  or  less  desperate 
condition.  Yet  one  can  hardly  blame  them  for 
following  the  ways  of  their  fathers,  when  you  con- 
sider the  lack  of  facilities.  They  can't  clean  the 
fish  on  board  their  little  boats,  as  the  bankers  do 
on  the  larger  schooners,  and  there  is  no  place  in 
which  they  can  dispose  of  the  refuse  save  in  the 
waters  of  the  cove.  They  don't  even  have  any 
cultivable  land  where  they  could  spread  it  to  fer- 
tilize the  ground.  It  must  drift  here  and  there, 


82  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

to  go  out  with  the  ebb  of  the  tide  or  be  devoured 
by  other  fishes,  or  else  it  gets  cast  up  on  the 
shingle.  The  smell  is  a  part  of  their  lives,  and 
I  am  nearly  sure  that  they  are  usually  quite  un- 
conscious of  it.  Moreover,  they  are  always  har- 
assed for  time.  If  the  fishing  is  good  the  men  at 
work  in  the  fish-houses  ought  to  be  out  fishing, 
and  the  girls  should  be  out  upon  the  flakes.  They 
often  work  at  night  till  they  are  ready  to  drop. 
And  then  perhaps  comes  a  spell  of  rain,  days  and 
weeks  of  it,  during  which  the  fish  spoils  and  all 
their  work  goes  for  nothing.  Then  they  have  to 
try  again  and  again,  with  hunger  and  debt  spur- 
ring them  on.  And  the  finest  part  of  it  is  that 
they  never  seem  to  lose  courage." 

"I  wonder  they  don't  go  elsewhere  and  try 
some  other  kind  of  work,"  suggested  Miss  Jel- 
liffe. 

"I  dare  say  they  are  fitted  for  little  else,"  I 
replied.  "And  besides,  like  so  many  other  people 
all  over  the  face  of  the  earth  they  are  attached 
to  their  own  land,  and  many  get  homesick  who 
are  transplanted  to  other  places.  They  seem  to 
have  taken  root  in  the  cracks  between  these  bar- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  83 

ren  rocks,  and  the  tearing  them  away  is  hard.  So 
they  keep  on,  in  spite  of  all  the  hardships.  They 
get  lost  in  storms  and  fogs;  they  get  drowned  or 
are  frozen  to  death  on  the  ice-pans,  nearly  every 
spring,  at  the  sealing,  for  which  they  are  paid  in 
shares.  This  naturally  means  that  if  the  ship 
is  unsuccessful  they  get  nothing  for  all  their  ter- 
rible toil  and  exposure.  Indeed,  Miss  Jelliffe, 
they  are  brave  people  and  hard  workers,  who 
never  get  more  than  the  scantiest  rewards.  I 
think  I  am  becoming  very  fond  of  them.  I'm  a 
Newfoundlander,  you  know." 

"Was  it  home-sickness  that  brought  you  back*?" 
she  asked. 

"It  may  have  been  sickness  of  some  sort,"  I 
answered. 

She  looked  at  me,  without  saying  anything 
more,  and  we  stepped  on  board  the  boat,  after  I 
had  guided  her  over  the  precarious  footing  of  a 
loose  plank  which,  however,  she  tackled  bravely. 


CHAPTER  VI 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Dearest  Auntie: 

During  these  long  evenings  there  is  absolutely 
nothing  for  me  to  do  except  to  inflict  long  epistles 
upon  you.  Dear  Daddy  seems  to  be  making  up 
for  some  of  the  lost  sleep  of  his  youth,  and  is  apt 
to  begin  early  the  unmusical  accompaniment  to 
his  slumbers. 

We  are  now  able  to  dispense  with  the  nice  old 
mariner  who  watched  him  so  effectively  the  first 
night.  Daddy  said  the  competition  was  too  great 
for  him  to  stand,  and  explained  that  he  wanted 
a  monopoly.  You  will  be  delighted  to  hear  that 
as  far  as  we  can  tell  the  poor  leg  is  doing  nicely; 
at  any  rate  the  doctor  seems  to  be  pleased.  I 
had  no  idea  that  our  patient  would  be  so  easily 
resigned  to  his  fate.  He  is  just  as  good  as  good 
can  be. 

84 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  85 

To  console  you  for  reading  about  the  hardships 
I  must  tell  you  that  I  had  one  of  the  times  of 
my  life  to-day.  An  ultimate  analysis  of  it  would 
reduce  itself  to  a  trip  from  a  dirty  shore,  in  a 
dirty  boat,  to  a  dirty  island,  at  least  that  part  of 
it  that  was  not  daily  scrubbed  by  the  Atlantic 
billows.  Of  course  this  may  be  somewhat  ex- 
aggerated, but  the  places  one  departs  from  and 
arrives  at  are  somewhat  trying  to  sensitive  noses. 

That  young  doctor  I  spoke  of  is  the  responsi- 
ble party,  aided  and  abetted  by  Daddy.  Be- 
tween them  they  just  bundled  me  away,  under 
some  silly  pretense  that  I  needed  fresh  air.  It 
is  possible,  after  all,  that  they  may  have  been 
right. 

We  went  down  to  the  fish-houses  and  flakes 
that  crop  out  like  queer  mushrooms  on  stilts  all 
over  the  edges  of  the  cove,  and  it  was  a  shaky 
damsel  who  shuddered  over  the  passing  of  a 
wobbly  plank.  The  crew  of  two  waited  below 
in  the  boat,  and  smiled  encouragingly,  so  that  I 
had  to  try  and  show  more  bravery  than  I  really 
felt.  I  had  no  desire  to  intrude  among  the 
squids;  one  sees  them  dimly  through  the  clear 


86  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

water  and  they  impress  one,  as  they  move  about, 
as  resembling  rather  active  rats.  The  cod  are 
more  partial  to  them  than  I  ever  shall  be.  Then 
there  was  a  rather  rickety  ladder  down  which  I 
scrambled.  I  am  sure  the  crew  had  never  seen 
silk  stockings  before,  but  their  heads  were  politely 
turned  away.  A  large,  exuberantly  whiskered 
Frenchman  in  picturesque  rags  gave  me  his  hand 
and  helped  me  down  with  a  manner  worthy  of 
assorted  dukes  and  counts;  and  there  was  a  little 
boy  who  sat  on  a  thwart  and  looked  wistfully  at 
me. 

"De  leetle  bye,  heem  want  go,  if  mademoi- 
selle heem  no  mind,"  said  the  Frenchman,  bash- 
fully, with  a  very  distinct  look  of  appeal. 

The  little  fellow  also  sought  my  eyes,  and  held 
his  ragged  little  cap  in  his  hands.  He  was  sim- 
ply the  curliest  darling,  clad  in  a  garment  of 
many  colors  made  of  strange  remnants  and  sewed 
by  hands  doubtless  acquainted  with  a  sailor's 
palm  but  unfamiliar  with  ordinary  stitching. 

Naturally  I  bent  down  and  lifted  him  up  and 
put  him  on  my  knees,  recognizing  in  this  infant 
the  nicest  discovery  I  have  yet  made  on  this  amaz- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  87 

ing  island.  His  little  pink  face  and  golden  curls 
imperatively  demanded  a  kiss.  He  is  just  the 
sweetest  little  fellow  you  ever  saw,  and  looks  al- 
together out  of  place  among  the  sturdy  urchins 
of  the  Cove.  Then  I  had  to  put  him  down,  be- 
cause of  course  I  had  flopped  down  in  the  wrong 
place.  I  notice  that  in  small  boats  one  always 
does.  The  child  took  his  cap  off  again  and  said 
"merci,"  and  I  had  to  smile  at  Yves,  the  French- 
man, whose  grin  distinctly  showed  that  the  way 
to  his  heart  lies  through  that  kiddy. 

We  were  off  at  once,  and  I  sat  astern  near  the 
ancient.  Yves  had  gone  forward  and  the  doctor, 
after  the  usual  totally  unnecessary  concern  as 
to  rugs  and  other  useless  things,  followed  him 
and  appeared  to  practice  his  French  on  the 
sailor. 

"That  there  Frenchy,"  Captain  Sammy  con- 
fided to  me,  "is  most  crazy  over  th'  young  'un.  I 
never  did  see  sich  a  thing  in  all  me  born  days." 

"He  must  be  awfully  proud  of  such  a  dear  lit- 
tle son,"  I  answered. 

"There's  them  as  says  it  ain't  the  son  o'  he," 
replied  Sammy.  "He  don't  never  talk  about  the 


88  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

bye.  They  says  he  jist  picked  him  up  some- 
wheres,  jist  some  place  or  other.  You  wouldn't 
hardly  think  what  a  plenty  they  is  as  has  no 
fathers  or  mothers  neither,  along  th'  coast." 

This  opened  to  me  a  vista  of  troops  of  little 
kiddies  wandering  up  and  down  the  cliffs,  be- 
wailing the  poor  daddies  that  will  never  be  given 
back  by  the  rough  sea,  and  the  mothers  who  found 
life  harder  than  they  could  bear,  and  it  saddened 
me.  You  always  said  I  must  beware  of  my  im- 
agination, but  I  think  there  was  a  fund  of 
reality  in  that  vision.  Then  I  was  compelled  to 
look  about  me,  for  we  were  passing  through  the 
headlands  at  the  narrow  mouth  of  the  cove,  and 
the  long  lift  of  the  open  sea  bore  us  up  and  down 
again,  softly,  like  an  easy  low  swing.  That  ter- 
rible reek  of  fish  had  disappeared  and  the  air  was 
laden  with  the  delightful  pungency  of  clean  sea- 
weed and  the  pure  saltiness  of  the  great  waters. 
North  and  south  of  us  extended  the  rocky  coast, 
all  frilled,  at  the  foot  of  the  great  ledges,  with 
the  pearly  spume  of  the  long  rollers. 

It  was  very  early  when  we  arrived  in  the  Snow- 
bird, and  I  was  not  on  deck  very  long.  It  didn't 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  89 

seem  nearly  so  beautiful  then,  and  I  had  no  idea 
that  it  would  be  like  this. 

"It  is  perfectly  marvelous,"  I  told  Captain 
Sammy.  "But  it  is  a  terrible  coast.  How  do 
you  ever  manage  to  get  back  in  storms  and  fogs'? 
The  mouth  of  the  cove  is  nothing  but  a  tiny  hole 
in  the  face  of  the  cliffs." 

"Times  when  they  is  nought  but  fog  maybe  we 
smells  'un,"  he  replied,  with  the  most  solemn 
gravity. 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  such  an  obvious  thing," 
I  replied,  laughing.  "It  seems  quite  possible. 
But  how  about  gales'?" 

"They  is  times  when  we  has  to  run  to  some  o' 
the  bays  north  or  south  of  us  fer  shelter,"  he  an- 
swered. "I've  allers  been  able  to  fetch  5un." 

"But  what  if  you  were  carried  out  to  sea*?" 

"Then  likely  I'd  git  ketched,  like  so  many 
others  has,  ma'am." 

And  then,  Aunt  Jennie  dear,  in  spite  of  the 
shining  of  the  bright  sun  upon  the  glittering 
water  and  the  softness  of  the  air  that  was  caress- 
ing my  face,  I  felt  very  sad  for  a  moment.  It 
looked  like  a  very  cruel  world  for  all  of  its  pres- 


90  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

ent  smiling.  On  this  coast  the  elements  seem 
always  to  be  waiting  for  their  prey,  just  as,  in 
the  shelter  of  ledges  deep  beneath  our  keel,  un- 
speakable slimy  things  with  wide  glaucous  eyes 
are  lying  in  watch,  with  tentacles  outspread. 

"It  all  seems  very  dreadful  to  me,"  I  said. 

But  the  old  fellow,  though  he  nodded  civilly 
in  assent,  had  not  understood  me  in  the  least. 
This  was  clearly  the  only  world  with  which  he 
was  acquainted;  the  one  particular  bit  of  earth 
whereupon  fate  had  dropped  him,  as  fertilizing 
seeds  are  dropped  by  wandering  birds.  I  dare- 
say he  is  unable  to  realize  any  other  sort  of  ex- 
istence, excepting  perhaps  in  some  such  vague 
way  as  you  and  I  may  think  of  those  canal- 
diggers  of  Mars.  Close  to  us,  to  port,  we  passed 
a  big  rock  that  was  jutting  from  the  water  and 
over  which  the  long  smooth  seas  washed,  foam- 
ing with  hissing  sounds. 

"He  nigh  ketched  us,  day  I  fetched  doctor  back 
to  yer  father,"  Sammy  informed  me.  "Ye  mind 
t'were  a  bit  rough  that  day,  and  ye  couldn't  tell 
yer  hand  afore  yer  face,  hardly,  t'were  that  thick, 
and  tide  she'd  drawed  us  furder  inshore  'n  I  mis- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  91 

trusted.  The  wind  he  were  middlin'  high  an' 
gusty,  too.  I  don't  mind  many  sich  hard  times 
a-makin'  th'  cove.  We  was  sure  glad  enough  ter 
get  in." 

"I  never  thought  of  it  in  that  way,"  I  ex- 
claimed. "It  certainly  was  an  awful  after- 
noon, and  it  must  have  been  horribly  danger- 
ous." 

"I  telled  'un  afore  startin'  as  how  t'were  a  bit 
of  a  job,  an'  he  asks  me  kin  I  make  it,  an'  I  says 
I  expect  I  kin,  like  enough,  wid  luck.  Then  he 
tells  me  ter  think  o'  th'  old  woman  an'  th'  chil- 
dren, an'  I  says  it's  all  right.  Frenchy  he  were 
willin'  too,  so  in  course  we  started." 

Then,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  I  took  a  real 
long  look  at  that  doctor,  who  was  sitting  for- 
ward, perched  on  the  head  of  a  barrel.  He  was 
laughing  with  Frenchy,  and  held  the  boy  on  his 
lap.  I  decided  that  he  belongs  to  a  class  that 
is  familiar  to  us.  You  know  his  kind,  Aunt 
Jennie,  keen  of  eye,  full  of  quiet  determination, 
and  always  moving  forcibly,  even  if  slowly,  to- 
wards success.  We  have  seen  lots  of  them  on 
the  football  fields,  at  Corinthian  yacht  races, 


92  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

wherever  big  chaps  are  contending  and  care  but 
little  for  the  safety  of  their  necks  as  long  as  they 
are  playing  the  game. 

To  me  the  strangest  thing  about  this  man  is 
that  he  appears  to  be  thoroughly  adapted  to  these 
surroundings,  and  yet  would  be  equally  at  home 
in  what  we  choose  to  call  our  set,  just  like  that 
dear  woman  Mrs.  Barnett.  I  can't  help  wonder- 
ing what  he  is  doing  here,  I  mean  apart  from  his 
obvious  work  which,  in  all  conscience,  appears  to 
be  hard  enough. 

He  was  pointing  out  something  to  the  little 
boy,  in  the  distance,  so  that  I  stared  also  and 
caught  a  puff  of  vapor  above  the  water. 

"It's  a  whale,  isn't  it?"  I  asked. 

"Yis,  ma'am,"  replied  Sammy.  "It's  one  o* 
they  big  sulphur-bottoms.  Them  little  whaling 
steamers  is  mighty  glad  to  get  hold  o'  that  kind. 
They  grows  awful  big.  I've  seed  some  shockin' 
big  fellows." 

"I'd  like  to  see  one  caught.  It  must  be  ever 
so  exciting,"  I  said. 

"There  ain't  no  whalin'  stations  in  these  parts, 
but  they  tells  me  some  of  'em  '11  tow  them  little 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  93 

steamers  miles  and  miles,  even  wid'  engine  half 
speed  astern.  Then  other  times  they  gits  'em 
killed  first  shot  out  o'  the  gun." 

After  this  I  looked  around  again.  I  know  you 
don't  care  for  small  boats,  but  it  is  delightful  to 
be  so  close  to  the  water,  and  it  gives  one  a  sense 
of  keen  pleasure  one  often  misses  in  bigger  ships. 
They  seem  to  be  so  much  more  alive. 

I  must  acknowledge  that  after  a  time  I  began 
to  observe  the  doctor  again.  I  presume  it  is  a 
fault  of  our  present  education,  Aunt  Jennie,  that 
we  young  girls  are  not  much  used  to  being  neg- 
lected by  young  men.  This  one  was  really 
paying  little  attention  to  me.  Even  when  a 
man's  daily  garb  includes  a  flannel  shirt  one  ex- 
pects him  to  be  attentive,  if  he  is  nice.  Of 
course  I  don't  suppose  any  one  here  knows  how  to 
starch  and  iron  white  shirts  and  collars,  so  that 
the  doctor  can't  help  his  raiment,  which  is  better 
adapted  to  the  local  fashions.  You  must  not 
think  that  he  seems  to  be  restrained  by  a  sense  of 
respectful  deference  especially  due  to  the  daugh- 
ter of  one  whom  the  silly  papers  are  fond 
of  referring  to  as  belonging  to  the  tribe 


94  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

of  magnates.  His  manners  are  perfectly  civil 
and  courteous,  showing  that  he  has  been  ac- 
customed to  move  among  nice  people.  He 
took  the  trouble  to  ask  whether  I  were  com- 
fortable, to  suggest  a  rug  which  I  declined  and 
to  ask  if  there  was  anything  else  he  could  do. 
But  after  that  he  went  forward  to  practise  his 
French  on  Yves,  who  frequently  grinned  with 
pleasure.  Nor  has  he  seemed  to  be  particularly 
elated  at  the  privilege  of  attending  a  rich  yacht 
owner,  who  may  represent  a  decent  fee.  I  know 
perfectly  well  that  he  takes  a  great  deal  more 
interest  in  the  fisherman  we  went  to  see. 

The  island  towards  which  we  were  sailing  was 
rising  from  the  sea,  and  Sammy  pointed  it  out  to 
me,  in  the  distance,  faintly  azure  in  the  slight 
haze.  We  were  sailing  with  a  fair  wind,  our 
little  sails  drawing  steadily  and  the  forefoot  cast- 
ing spray  before  it  in  pearly  showers. 

"Won't  you  let  me  take  her1?"  I  asked. 

Sammy  opened  astonished  eyes  and  doubtfully 
relinquished  the  tiller  to  me.  Isn't  it  queer  how 
people  of  our  sort  are  always  deemed  to  be  quite 
helpless  with  their  hands'?  I  may  boast  of  the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  95 

fact  that  the  ancient  mariner  was  soon  satisfied 
that  his  craft  was  in  fairly  competent  ones.  I 
had  to  use  just  a  little  more  strength  than  I  had 
expected  to,  and  to  stand  and  brace  myself  against 
the  pull.  But  it  was  glorious  and  made  me  feel 
to  its  full  extent  the  delight  of  the  sea.  In  a  mo- 
ment I  felt  that  my  cheeks  were  red  enough  to 
satisfy  Daddy  himself,  who  is  always  a  strenuous 
advocate  of  robustious  femininity.  He  has  no 
use  for  the  wilted-flower  effect  in  girls.  My 
locks,  of  course,  were  disporting  themselves  as 
they  pleased,  and  I  am  sure  that  I  began  there 
and  then  to  strew  the  bottom  of  our  ship  with 
hairpins. 

Then  I  got  the  one  great  genuine  compliment 
of  my  youthful  existence. 

"La  belle  dame  qui  gouverne!"  exclaimed 
Yves'  little  boy. 

Of  course  the  other  two  turned  at  once  to  be- 
hold the  beautiful  lady  who  was  governing,  as 
the  Gallic  language  calls  steering.  I  shall  give 
that  infant  a  supply  of  chocolate  which  will  make 
his  big  blue  eyes  open  widely.  Such  a  talent  for 
discrimination  should  be  encouraged.  That  pard 


96  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

of  a  Frenchman  was  smiling  in  approval,  and  the 
doctor  was  evidently  taking  notice.  When  a 
girl  wears  a  white  jersey  and  blue  skirt,  and  she 
has  a  picturesque  cap,  and  is  engaged  in  the  oc- 
cupation of  steering,  which  brings  out  many  of 
one's  best  points,  she  has  a  right  to  expect  a  little 
admiration.  It  worked  and  presently  the  doc- 
tor was  sitting  at  my  side,  which  goes  to  show 
that  he  is  but  a  weak  male  human  after  all. 

"They  are  splendid  little  boats,  are  they  not*?" 
he  said. 

"Yes,  indeed.  The  rig  reminds  me  of  some  of 
the  sharpies  they  use  on  the  Connecticut  coast. 
But  these  are  regular  sea-going  craft,  and  must 
beat  up  to  windward  nicely." 

"You  are  quite  a  sailor,"  was  his  obviously  in- 
dicated remark. 

"I've  done  a  good  deal  of  small-boat  sailing  on 
the  Sound,"  I  informed  him,  "out  of  Larchmont 
and  those  places,  and  in  Great  South  Bay.  I  sup- 
pose I've  been  a  good  deal  of  a  tomboy." 

"You've  been  a  fine,  strong,  healthy  girl,  and 
you  still  are,"  he  replied,  quietly. 

It  was  only  such  approval  as  Harry  Lawrence, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  97 

for  instance,  might  have  bestowed  on  a  blue-rib- 
bon pointer.  The  man  considers  me  as  a  rather 
nice  specimen  and,  with  all  due  modesty,  I  am 
inclined  to  agree  with  him. 

By  this  time  we  were  rapidly  nearing  the 
island.  As  far  as  I  could  see  it  was  nothing  but 
a  rough  mass  of  rocks  better  suited  to  the  tenancy 
of  sea-gulls  than  human  beings.  Everywhere  the 
waves  were  breaking  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  and 
monstrous  boulders.  A  great  host  of  sea-birds 
was  rising  from  it  and  returning;  in  the  waters 
near  us  the  dear  little  petrels  dotted  the  surface 
with  black  points,  while  slow-flying  gannets 
traveled  sedately  and  active  terns  rioted  in  the 
air.  Coots  and  other  sea-ducks  rose  before  our 
boat  and,  from  time  to  time,  the  little  round 
heads  of  harbor  seals,  with  very  human-looking 
eyes,  bobbed  on  the  seas. 

"Isn't  it  perfectly  delightful,"  I  cried.  "I 
could  never  weary  of  watching  all  these  things, 
and  what  is  that  big  duck,  or  is  it  a  goose,  travel- 
ing all  alone  and  flying  straight  as  an  arrow*?" 

"It  is  just  a  big  loon.  The  Great  Northern 
Diver,  you  know." 


98  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  them  flying.  I 
shall  always  recognize  one  again.  They  are 
regular  double-enders,  pointed  at  both  ends.  Is 
it  the  same  sort  of  loon  that  we  see  on  the  Maine 
and  Adirondack  lakes'?" 

"The  very  same,"  he  replied.  "I  dare  say  you 
are  well  acquainted  with  its  voice." 

"Indeed  I  am;  it  used  to  give  me  goose-flesh 
when  I  first  heard  it,  ever  so  long  ago.  It's  a 
dreadfully  shivery  sound." 

The  man  smiled,  as  if  he  thought  this  a  pretty 
fair  description. 

"It  is  rather  spooky,"  he  admitted,  "but  I  love 
it  as  a  typical  sound  of  the  wilderness.  It  is  just 
redolent  with  memories  of  the  scented  smoke  of 
camp-fires,  of  game-tracked  swamps  and  big 
forests  mirrored  in  deep,  calm  waters  all  aglow 
with  the  lights  of  the  setting  sun." 

This  interested  me.  It  is  evident  that  this  doc- 
tor is  not  simply  a  fairly  well  educated  dispenser 
of  pills  and  a  wielder  of  horrid  instruments. 
There  is  some  tincture  of  sentiment  in  his 
make-up. 

"How  do  you  enjoy  the  practice  of  your  pro- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  99 

fession  in  Sweetapple  Cove4?"  I  suddenly  asked 
him,  rather  irrelevantly. 

"I  have  an  idea  that  it  is  a  sort  of  practice  for 
which  I  am  fairly  well  fitted,"  he  answered, 
slowly,  and  still  looking  at  the  birds.  "A  fellow 
can  never  be  sure  that  he  would  make  a  success 
in  the  larger  places.  Here  you  will  admit  that 
the  critical  sense  of  the  population  must  be  easily 
satisfied.  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  I  am 
at  least  the  half  a  loaf  that  is  better  than  no 
bread." 

Of  course  I  could  only  smile.  He  had  said  a 
lot,  very  pleasantly,  without  giving  me  the  slight- 
est bit  of  information.  To-morrow  I  intend  to 
go  and  have  a  chat  with  Mrs.  Barnett  and  pump 
her  dry.  I  notice  that  I  am  rather  a  curious 
young  person. 

"Jist  keep  her  off  a  bit  now,"  advised  Sammy. 
"They  is  a  big  tide  settin'  in." 

A  slight  pressure  on  the  tiller  was  enough,  and 
Yves  loosened  the  sheets  just  a  little.  On  our 
port  side  we  could  see  the  cliffs,  dark  and  rather 
menacing,  which  as  yet  failed  to  show  the  slight- 
est indenture  within  which  a  boat  might  lie. 


100  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"I  think  I  will  give  you  the  tiller  now,"  I  told 
Sammy. 

"If  you'll  not  be  mindin',''  he  answered. 

I  am  discovering  that  these  people  have  an  in- 
born sense  of  courtesy.  Their  broad  accent, 
which  is  a  mixture  of  Scotch  and  Irish  and  other 
North  British  sounds,  is  rather  a  pleasant  one. 
It  was  quite  evident  that  I  was  to  suit  myself  in 
the  matter  of  steering  the  boat.  If  I  objected  to 
relinquishing  the  tiller  owing  to  a  preference  for 
running  up  on  the  rocks  I  was  entirely  welcomex 
as  far  as  I  could  judge  from  Sammy's  words.  I 
am  beginning  to  love  the  old  man. 

He  took  the  helm  and  I  swung  my  arms  against 
my  sides,  for  my  muscles  felt  just  a  little  bit  sore. 

"I'd  like  to  do  this  often,"  I  informed  him. 
"It  is  fine  for  one's  arms." 

"It's  sure  fine  fer  the  pretty  face  of  yer,"  he 
asserted,  rather  timidly.  "The  color  on  it  an' 
the  shinin'  in  yer  eyes  is  real  good  to  see." 

"You  are  very  complimentary,"  I  laughed. 

Then  the  old  man  looked  at  me,  quite  soberly, 
and  I  could  see  that  a  misgiving  had  made  its 
way  in  his  dear  old  soul. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  101 

"I  mistrust  I  doesn't  jist  know  what  that 
means,"  he  said,  rather  worried.  "Ef  it's  any- 
thin'  bad  I'm  a-beggin'  yer  pardon." 

"You  are  a  perfect  dear,  Captain  Sammy,"  I 
told  him.  "Indeed  it  means  something  very 
nice." 

Profound  relief  appeared  upon  his  countenance. 
I  am  discovering  that  in  Sweetapple  Cove  one 
must  limit  one's  vocabulary.  The  old  man  would 
probably  not  appreciate  chocolates,  but  he  de- 
serves them. 

We  were  dashing  on,  at  a  safe  distance  from 
the  rocks,  and  suddenly  there  was  an  opening  in 
the  cliffs,  with  a  tiny  bay  within.  Yves  pulled 
in  the  sheets  a  little  and  we  sailed  into  the  deep, 
clear  water  of  the  tiny  cove. 

There  was  a  small  beach  of  rolling  shingle  and, 
beyond  this,  clinging  like  barnacles  to  the  rocky 
hillside,  were  a  couple  of  decrepit  houses.  Some 
big  flakes  and  a  fish-house  were  built  over  the 
water,  on  spidery  legs.  A  few  children,  very 
stolid  of  face  and  unkempt,  watched  our  arrival 
and  stared  at  me.  A  man,  in  half-bared  arms 
dotted  about  the  wrists  with  remnants  of  what 


102  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

they  call  gurry-sores,  stood  at  the  water's  edge, 
waiting  to  lend  a  hand.  There  appears  to  be  no 
anchorage  in  this  deep  hole.  The  sails  were 
quickly  wrapped  around  the  masts  and  our  fore- 
foot gently  grated  against  the  pebbles.  Then 
all  the  men  jumped  out  and  dragged  the  boat 
up,  using  some  rollers. 

"She'll  do  now,"  announced  Sammy.  "Tide's 
on  the  ebb,  anyways." 

There  was  no  lack  of  hands  to  help  me  jump 
out  on  the  little  beach.  Frenchy's  small  boy  had 
clambered  out  like  a  monkey  and,  like  myself, 
was  an  object  of  silent  curiosity  to  the  local 
urchins.  The  scent  of  fish  prevailed,  of  course, 
but  it  was  less  pronounced  than  at  Sweetapple 
Cove,  very  probably  for  the  unfortunate  reason 
that  very  few  fish  had  been  caught,  of  late.  In- 
deed, it  was  a  fine  drying  day  and  yet  the  poor 
flakes  were  nearly  bare. 

"Bring  up  the  barrel,  Sammy,"  said  the  doc- 
tor. "I'm  going  up  to  the  house.  I  don't  think 
I'll  keep  you  waiting  very  long,  Miss  Jelliffe." 

He  hastened  up,  scrambling  up  the  rocky  path, 
and  entered  the  house.  I  followed  him,  perhaps 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  103 

rather  indiscreetly.  This  queer  atmosphere  of 
poverty  had  affected  me,  I  think,  and  I  suddenly 
became  eager  to  see  whether  I  could  not  be  of 
some  help. 

A  woman  had  met  him  at  the  door,  with  an 
effort  at  a  smile  upon  her  thin,  seamed  face,  that 
was  pale  with  scanty  food  and  haggard  from  long 
watching  at  night. 

"Un  do  be  sayin'  as  th'  arm  be  better  a  lot," 
she  informed  him.  Then  she  stared  at  me,  just 
for  a  moment,  and  smiled  again. 

"That's  fine,"  said  the  doctor.  "We'll  have 
another  look  at  it  directly.  You  can  come  in  if 
you  wish  to,  Miss  Jelliffe." 

There  was  nothing  but  just  one  fairly  large 
room.  The  patient  was  lying  on  a  bed  built  of 
planks  and  his  right  arm  was  resting  on  a  pil- 
low, wrapped  up  in  an  enormous  dressing. 

"You  sure  is  a  sight  fer  sore  eyes  ter  see,"  said 
the  man. 

"I  hope  I'm  one  for  sore  arms  too,"  said 
the  doctor,  cheerfully.  Then  he  turned  to 
me. 

"It  would  perhaps  be  best  for  you  to  leave  for 


104  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

a  few  minutes,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  he  said.     "It  won't 
take  long." 

But  I  didn't  feel  that  I  could  leave,  and  he  be- 
gan to  cut  through  bandages  and  dressings.  Oh ! 
Aunt  Jennie  dear!  I  didn't  realize  that  people 
could  have  such  dreadful  things  the  matter  with 
them.  It  made  me  just  a  little  faint  to  look  at 
it,  and  I  had  to  turn  away.  There  was  but  a 
slight  injury  at  first,  I  was  told,  and  it  had  be- 
come awful  for  lack  of  proper  treatment  and  care. 
Dr.  Grant,  I  was  also  informed  by  old  Sammy, 
was  confronted  at  first  with  the  horrible  prob- 
lem of  either  taking  fair  chances  for  the  man's 
life  by  an  amputation  which  would  have  meant 
starvation  for  the  family,  or  of  assuming  the  risk 
of  trying  to  save  that  arm  upon  which  the  woman 
and  her  little  ones  were  depending.  Such  things 
must  surely  try  a  man's  soul,  Aunt  Jennie.  The 
doctor  told  me  that  he  had  gone  out  of  the  house 
and  sat  on  a  rock,  to  think  it  over,  and  had  looked 
at  the  flakes  with  their  pitiful  showing.  The  kid- 
dies were  ravenous  and  the  wife  exhausted  with 
care.  Then  he  had  stared  at  the  other  old  house, 
now  abandoned  by  a  family  that  had  been  un- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  105 

able  to  keep  body  and  soul  together  in  the  place. 

And  so  he  had  been  compelled  to  decide  upon 
this  great  gamble  and  spent  three  nights  and  days 
in  watching,  in  a  ceaseless  struggle  to  save  that 
arm,  using  every  possible  means  of  winning  his 
fight,  knowing  that  the  penalty  of  failure  was 
death.  It  was  no  wonder  that  he  looked  happy 
now  that  he  knew  he  had  won. 

I  suppose  that  such  things  happen  often,  Auntie 
dear,  but  we  have  never  seen  things  like  these, 
and  they  make  an  awfully  strong  impression. 

Dr.  Grant  was  working  away,  looking  well 
pleased,  and  I  handed  him  a  few  things  he  needed. 

"That's  fine!"  he  declared,  after  he  had  com- 
pleted a  fresh  dressing.  "You  are  well  enough 
now  to  come  back  with  me  to  the  Cove,  Dick, 
because  that  arm  must  be  attended  to  every  day 
and  I  can't  come  here  so  often.  You  will  be 
able  to  stand  the  trip  all  right  and  I'll  send  you 
back  as  soon  as  you  are  well." 

"I  sure  kin  stand  anythin'  so  long  as  yer  says 
I  kin,"  answered  the  man.  His  eyes  were  full  of 
a  confidence  one  usually  sees  only  in  happy  chil- 
dren. 


106  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

For  a  few  minutes  the  wife  had  gone  out  of  the 
house,  and  she  returned,  breathlessly. 

"They  is  all  laughin'  down  ter  th'  beach,"  she 
announced.  "They  is  Frenchy's  little  bye,  all 
wid'  yeller  curls,  a-playin'  wid  our  laddies,  and 
Sammy  Moore  he've  brung  a  barrel  o'  flour,  and 
a  box  wid  pork,  and  they  is  more  tea  and  sugar. 
What  d'  yer  think  o'  that*?" 

She  was  much  excited,  and  looked  from  her 
husband  to  us,  nervously,  as  if  fearing  to  awaken 
from  a  dream. 

"That  ere  trader  he  said  I  couldn't  have  no 
more,  afore  I  sent  him  a  few  quintals  o'  fish,"  said 
Dick,  "I  don't  see  how  it  come." 

"You  had  to  have  it,"  said  the  doctor,  just  a 
little  bit  gruffly.  "You  can  pay  me  back  after 
you  get  to  work  again." 

The  woman  grabbed  his  arm,  and  made  him 
wince,  and  then  she  returned  to  the  beach  again 
and  brought  back  the  box. 

"Beggin'  yer  pardon,  ma'am,"  she  said. 
"Jist  set  down  still  fer  a  minnit.  I  kin  bile  th' 
kittle  now  an'  you'll  be  havin'  a  dish  o'  tea." 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much,"  I  answered,   as 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  107 

pleasantly  as  I  could.  "I  don't  want  to  give  you 
so  much  trouble,  and  we  are  going  back  at  once." 

The  woman  looked  sorely  disappointed. 

"It's  awful  good  tea,"  she  pleaded.  "Th5  kind 
as  comes  in  yeller  packages,  and  they  is  sugar 
too." 

I  turned  to  Dr.  Grant.  A  nearly  impercepti- 
ble smile  and  nod  from  him  showed  me  that  I 
had  better  accept.  It  was  evident  that  the  poor 
creature  could  not  understand  how  any  one  could 
refuse  tea,  the  only  luxury  of  her  hard  life. 

"I'll  change  my  mind,  if  you  will  let  me,"  I  said. 
"I  really  think  I  would  enjoy  it  very  much." 

Then  she  smiled  again,  and  went  up  to  the 
little  stove,  and  I  followed  her.  Dr.  Grant  had 
gone  out  for  a  moment. 

"Doctor  un'  says  Dick  goes  back  wid'  un,"  she 
said.  "He  be  th'  best  man  in  the  whole  world, 
ma'am.  Says  he'll  take  pay  when  fishing  gets 
better.  I  mistrust  he'll  be  waitin'  a  long  spell. 
It  must  be  most  twelve  dollars,  all  the  things 
he've  brung." 

For  a  moment  the  prospect  of  this  huge  debt 
sobered  her,  and  a  tear  ran  down  her  cheek. 


108  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"And  what  about  the  doctor's  pay*?"  I  asked. 

"I  doesn't  know,"  she  answered,  helplessly. 
"It's  sure  a  turrible  world." 

From  this  I  judge  that  the  financial  returns  of 
Dr.  Grant's  practice  must  be  more  than  meager. 
If  I  had  had  any  money  with  me  I  would  have 
given  it  to  this  poor  creature,  but  I  had  no  pock- 
ets and  had  never  thought  of  the  need  of  a  vanity 
bag  and  purse  for  a  visit  to  Will's  Island. 

The  woman  looked  out  of  the  door,  and  saw 
that  the  doctor  had  gone  down  to  the  beach  and 
was  talking  to  the  men,  apparently  engaged  in 
making  some  arrangement  at  the  bottom  of  the 
boat  whereon  to  lay  his  patient. 

"I  doesn't  know  what  we'll  do,"  she  said 
again,  hurriedly.  "But  there  never  was  a  good 
man  the  like  o'  he.  You  ain't  got  a  man  yet,  has 
you,  ma'am*?" 

"No,  I'm  a  spinster  yet,"  I  declared,  smil- 
ing. 

"He's  sure  the  best  ever  was.  Mebbe  he  might 
go  to  courtin'  you,  ma'am,  and  what  a  happy 
woman  ye'd  be." 

I  don't  think  I  blushed,  Aunt  Jennie,  or  showed 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  109 

any  particular  embarrassment.  I  think  I  simply 
recognized  a  tribute  of  adoration  rendered  by  the 
poor  soul  to  one  who,  in  her  weary,  red  eyes,  de- 
served nothing  less  than  worship. 

"I  am  quite  sure  he  is  a  splendid  man,"  I  an- 
swered, quietly.  "He  is  also  taking  care  of  my 
father,  who  broke  his  leg  on  the  rocks,  while  sal- 
mon-fishing." 

"Oh!  I  knows  yer  now,"  said  Mrs.  Will. 
"Sammy  he  told  us  how  you  come  in  that  white 
steam  schooner,  wi'  brass  shinin'  all  over." 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

She  began  to  stare  at  me,  much  interested. 

"Sich  a  bonnie  lass  ye  be !  I  wisht  he'd  take  a 
fancy  ter  ye!"  she  exclaimed.  "Ye'd  sure  never 
find  a  better  man  nowheres  an'  ye  look  as  good 
as  he  do.  I  mistrust  ye'd  make  an  awful  fine 
woman  fer  he." 

I  could  only  smile  again.  Fancy  my  meeting 
with  matchmakers  in  this  rocky  desert.  The 
poor  thing  meant  well,  of  course,  and  I  could 
make  no  further  answer,  for  Dr.  Grant  was  re- 
turning. He  packed  all  his  things  away  in  his 
bag,  and  I  went  over  to  the  fisherman's  bed. 


110  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"I  am  so  glad  that  you  are  getting  along  so 
much  better,"  I  told  him. 

"Thank  yer  kindly,  ma'am,"  he  answered. 
"I'se  sure  a  whole  lot  better  an'  now  we  has  grub 
too.'" 

You  know  how  sweet  the  fields  are  after  a 
storm,  Aunt  Jennie.  Here  it  also  looked  as  if 
some  dreadful  black  cloud  had  lifted,  so  that  the 
sun  shone  down  again  on  this  desolate  place  and 
made  it  beautiful  to  the  sick  man. 

Then  I  had  to  swallow  some  strong  tea,  with- 
out milk,  which  I  abhor.  I  trust  I  managed  it 
with  fortitude.  The  doctor  also  had  to  submit. 

"The  day  is  fast  approaching  when  I  shall  per- 
ish from  an  aggravated  case  of  tea-poisoning,"  he 
confided  to  me.  "Everywhere,  under  penalty  of 
seeing  long  faces,  I  am  compelled  to  swallow  it 
in  large  doses.  I  lie  awake  nights  seeking  vainly 
for  some  sort  of  excuse  that  will  be  accepted  with- 
out breaking  hearts." 

"I  hope  that  when  you  feel  the  symptoms  com- 
ing you  will  hasten  back  to  the  security  of  civiliza- 
tion," I  told  him. 

"Even  that  is  open  to  question,"  he  answered. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  111 

And  so  we  brought  the  poor  man  home,  Aunt 
Jennie,  and  I'm  beginning  to  feel  dreadfully 
sleepy,  so  I'll  say  au  revoir. 


CHAPTER  VII 

[From  John  Grant's  Diary 

ATKINS  has  just  returned  from  St.  John's,  bring- 
ing loads  of  things  for  the  Jelliffes.  He  con- 
sulted me  timidly  as  to  how  much  he  might  charge 
them  for  freight,  for  I  am  beginning  to  share 
with  Mr.  Barnett  the  honor  of  being  considered 
as  a  general  bureau  of  information.  I  craftily 
obtained  his  own  views,  and  suggested  a  slight  in- 
crease. Mr.  Jelliffe  audited  the  bill  and  gave 
the  man  five  dollars  extra  for  his  trouble,  so  that 
by  this  time  the  whole  family  is  weeping  with 
joy.  Atkins  also  brought  me  a  batch  of  medical 
journals  and  a  letter. 

To  look  at  Dora's  handwriting  one  would 
judge  that  the  young  woman  must  be  at  least 
six  feet  high.  The  letters  are  so  big  and  bold 
that  they  would  never  suggest  her  actual  five  feet 
four,  with  a  small  fraction  of  which  she  is  rather 

proud.     As  usual  she  tells  me  little  about  her- 

112 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  113 

self,  saying  that  I  can  easily  understand  the  na- 
ture of  her  work  in  the  tenements.  Of  course  I 
can  and,  what  is  more,  I  am  chagrined  to  think 
she  is  toiling  harder  and  enjoying  herself  less 
than  I.  Here  I  have  a  chance  at  great  breaths 
of  pure  air,  whereas  in  New  York  she  is  ever 
hurrying  through  sordid  little  East  Side  streets 
and  breathing  their  emanations.  I  prefer  the 
fish-houses,  and  if  Miss  Jelliffe  were  acquainted 
with  some  of  those  streets  she  would  think  as  I 
do.  The  people  I  deal  with  here  are  grateful  and 
happy  to  see  me.  Dora's  mob  is  apt  to  suspect 
her  motives,  to  distrust  her  offers  of  care  and  in- 
struction, and  to  disagree  entirely  with  her  ideas 
of  cleanliness.  I  wish  she  were  here;  it  seems  to 
me  that  a  partnership  in  this  place  could  accom- 
plish wonderful  things.  I  would  build  a  bit  of 
a  hospital  and  she  could  boss  the  patients  to  her 
heart's  content. 

The  little  girl  says  that  she  approves  of  my 
doings,  but  complains  that  I  write  rather  flip- 
pantly, at  times.  Considering  that  she  has  bid- 
den me  to  avoid  carefully  all  matters  relating  to 
the  tender  passion  what  else  can  I  do*?  She  says 


114}  SWEET  APPLE  COVE 

that  if  I  persevere  I  shall  realize  that  I  am  doing 
good  work.  We  are  all  seeking  achievement,  she 
tells  me,  and  she  is  sure  I  am  accomplishing  great 
things. 

Poor  little  Dora!  I  wish  I  were  as  sure  of 
this  as  she  seems  to  be.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I 
am  constantly  disgruntled  at  the  lack  of  facili- 
ties. How  can  a  man  do  big  work  in  surgery 
with  no  assistants'?  The  least  I  should  have  is 
a  nurse.  I  have  written  to  tell  her  so. 

Day  before  yesterday  I  took  Miss  Jelliffe  over 
to  Will's  Island.  I  really  think  she  had  lost  a 
little  of  her  color  in  her  assiduous  care  of  her 
father,  and  I  was  pleased  to  see  the  roses  return 
to  her  cheeks  on  her  way  there.  I  would  have 
thought  that  a  young  woman  of  her  class  would 
require  a  great  deal  of  attention,  but  this  young 
lady  appears  to  be  just  as  independent  in  her  way 
as  Dora  is  in  hers.  She  was  very  much  at  home 
in  the  boat,  and  old  Sammy  just  eats  out  of  her 
hand.  She  has  long  ago  gathered  him  into  the 
fold  of  her  adorers.  Ten  minutes  after  we  left 
she  was  running  our  little  ship  and  handling  the 
tiller  understandingly. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  115 

She  is  a  young  woman  whose  life  will  be  cast  in 
pleasant  places,  and  she  awaits  the  future  cheer- 
fully, secure  in  the  belief  that  it  can  bring  but 
happiness.  Dora,  on  the  other  hand,  is  pros- 
pecting with  shovel  and  pick,  and  I'm  afraid  they 
may  blister  her  little  hands. 

When  we  arrived  at  Will's  Island  the  young 
woman  followed  me  into  the  house.  I  noticed 
that  she  shuddered  just  a  little  at  the  sight  of 
Dick's  arm.  It  was  a  novel  thing  to  her,  and 
I  must  say  she  met  it  bravely.  Indeed  it  was 
rather  fine  to  see  how  quickly  she  adapted  herself 
to  those  surroundings.  She  held  bandages  for  me 
and  handed  me  the  solutions  with  quick  intuition. 
Also  she  was  delightfully  simple  and  kind  in  her 
treatment  of  poor  Dick's  bewildered  wife. 

I  decided  to  bring  the  man  to  the  Cove.  He 
insisted  that  he  was  perfectly  able  to  walk  down 
to  the  boat,  but  staggered  as  soon  as  he  tried  to 
stand  up  and  would  have  fallen  had  I  not  been 
prepared  for  him.  Sammy  and  Frenchy  carried 
him  down  to  the  boat  and  lifted  him  on  board, 
where  they  stretched  him  on  the  foot-boards 
which  we  had  taken  the  precaution  to  upholster 


116  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

luxuriously  with  dried  seaweed.  An  old  sack, 
stuffed  with  the  same  material,  constituted  a  pil- 
low. 

Dick's  wife  and  her  brother,  with  the  children, 
waved  their  hands  at  us  as  we  left  the  little  bay 
and  started  on  the  long  run  close-hauled  to  the 
mainland. 

For  a  short  time  Miss  Jelliffe  remained  near 
Sammy.  She  was  peering  at  the  retiring  cliffs. 

"Who  would  ever  have  thought  that  men  would 
cling  to  such  places'?"  she  said.  "I  don't  know 
whether  I  am  glad  or  sorry  that  I  came." 

One  could  see  that  she  was  moved.  Life  had 
taken  a  wider  aspect  for  her.  She  doubtless  knew 
of  poverty  and  suffering,  but  to  her  they  had  been 
abstract  things  near  which  her  footsteps  had  never 
carried  her. 

"In  another  year  or  two  it  will  be  deserted," 
I  told  her.  "The  few  sticks  on  the  island  have 
all  been  cut  down,  and  they  have  begun  to  burn 
the  boards  of  the  abandoned  house,  though  they 
also  get  a  little  driftwood  for  fuel.  That  is  the 
story  of  many  places  on  this  coast,  after  the  peo- 
ple have  exhausted  the  scanty  supply  of  wood." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  117 

She  evidently  thought  it  marvelous  that  such 
desolate  bits  of  rock  should  have  found  human 
limpets  to  cling  to  them  and  be  able  to  support 
life  after  a  fashion.  Then  she  began  to  look  at 
the  man  who  was  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
Although  he  was  very  pale  and  weak  he  looked 
contentedly  at  the  sky  and  the  fleecy  clouds,  and 
when  his  eyes  caught  hers  he  smiled  bashfully. 
And  the  instinct  then  moved  her,  which  lies  in 
every  proper  feminine  heart,  however  dormantly, 
to  mother  something  or  somebody. 

The  screaming  feathered  life  no  longer  inter- 
ested her,  nor  the  surging  of  the  crested  waves 
against  the  cliffs,  nor  the  cleaving  of  the  water 
by  our  little  ship.  She  took  a  step  forward  and 
sat  down  on  the  rough  boards,  beside  this  wreck 
of  manhood  we  were  bringing  in,  unmindful  of 
the  dried  fish-scales  that  would  flake  off  upon  her 
skirts.  It  was  surely  an  unconscious  movement 
of  hers  when  her  hand  went  out  and  rested  on  the 
fisherman's  rough  paw. 

I  saw  him  stare  at  her,  his  eyes  filled  with  won- 
derment and  gratitude,  for  men  of  these  places 
know  little  of  tender  care. 


118  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"How  do  you  feel  now1?"  she  asked  him,  gently. 

"I  feels  like  I  once  did  after  a  day  an'  a  night 
on  th'  ice,"  he  replied,  slowly.  "I  mind  there 
wuz  four  on  us  to  a  small  pan  as  had  broke  loose. 
An'  two  they  give  out  with  th'  cold,  an'  wuz  dead 
afore  mornin',  but  th'  steamer  as  had  lost  us  in 
th'  fog  she  jist  sudden  loomed  up,  all  ter  once, 
an'  took  Tom  Pilley  an'  me  off  an'  we  wuz  saved. 
I  mistrust  that's  jist  how  I  feels  again  now." 

The  girl  turned  her  eyes  towards  me,  and  they 
were  moist.  She  had  understood  the  man  and 
realized  the  time  he  had  spent  in  despairing  resig- 
nation, with  the  image  of  death  ever  before  him 
during  the  long  battle  against  cold  and  starva- 
tion. Then  life  had  come,  like  a  flash,  out  of  the 
smothering  mists,  and  soon  he  had  been  ready  to 
struggle  on  again.  And  it  was  evident  that  the 
dreary  prospect  of  such  an  existence  prolonged 
was  enough  to  make  him  happy  once  more. 

After  this  she  remained  silent  for  a  long  time. 
Hitherto,  in  her  existence,  sorrow  and  suffering 
had  appeared  like  some  other  wonderful  things 
occurring  in  nature,  such  as  the  forces  holding 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  119 

atoms  together  or  compelling  bodies  to  gravitate. 
One  knew  of  such  things,  of  course,  yet  one  was 
unconscious  of  them.  Now  they  were  assuming 
an  importance  she  had  never  realized  before. 
Her  head  bent  low,  as  if  she  were  being  chastened 
by  some  strange  feeling  of  reproach. 

It  was  perhaps  the  soothing  touch  of  her  hand 
that  caused  Dick  to  fall  asleep,  and  Miss  Jelliffe, 
with  cramped  limbs,  rose  to  her  feet. 

"See  how  quietly  he  is  resting  now,"  she  said. 
"I  should  think  that  you  would  feel  ever  so  proud 
of  what  you  have  done.  I'm  sure  I  hope  you  do." 

I  had  taken  charge  of  the  tiller,  upon  which 
she  also  laid  her  hand.  I  dare  say  that  I  was  a 
little  surprised,  and  did  not  answer  at  once. 

"I  don't  think  that  I  ever  realized  before  how 
much  just  one  man  may  accomplish,"  she  con- 
tinued. 

"I  am  afraid  that  in  my  profession  most  of  us 
who  try  to  be  honest  with  ourselves  are  inclined 
to  deplore  how  very  little  we  can  achieve,"  I  re- 
plied. 

"No  man  has  any  right  to  be  entirely  satisfied 


120  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

with  his  efforts,"  she  declared,  "and  I  think  all 
this  is  a  magnificent  thing  to  be  devoting  one's  en- 
ergies to." 

"I  am  glad  if  I  am  sometimes  able  to  justify 
an  indulgent  faculty  for  having  granted  me  a 
parchment  permitting  me  to  prune  my  fellow 
mortals,  as  Holmes  puts  it,"  I  answered. 

She  looked  at  me,  seriously,  and  shook  her 
pretty  head. 

"You  are  not  speaking  at  all  seriously,"  she 
said. 

Dora  has  accused  me  of  flippancy,  and  this 
young  lady  states  that  I  don't  talk  seriously.  Yet 
a  fellow  has  a  right  to  dislike  the  danger  of 
being  unjustifiably  placed  in  the  category  of 
meritorious  people.  I  couldn't  very  well  tell  Miss 
Jelliffe  that  I  was  doing  all  this  at  the  bidding  of 
a  little  nurse  with  whom  I  am  mightily  in  love. 
Dora  has  as  yet  given  me  no  right  to  speak  of  her 
as  my  affianced. 

"What  I  wish  to  know  is  how  you  are  going  to 
be  paid  for  your  work  in  this  case,"  pursued  Miss 
Jelliffe,  "and  for  the  things  you  have  given  to 
these  people"?  And  who  pays  for  this  boat  and 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  121 

the  wages  of  the  men?     Of  course  if  I  am  indis- 
creet you  must  say  so." 

"I  am  the  owner,  in  perspective,  of  absolutely 
unlimited  codfish,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  I  told  her. 
"Some  day  these  people  will  bury  me  under  an 
avalanche  of  quintals.  Still,  it  is  also  possible 
that  they  may  come  on  the  installment  plan. 
One  hundred  and  twelve  pounds  of  fish  may  seem 
an  unusual  fee  for  a  rather  protracted  case,  but 
consider  how  far  it  will  go  in  the  feeding  of  a  lone 
bachelor.  Even  though  it  may  be  small  recom- 
pense it  is  promised  with  an  honest  and  kindly 
heart.  I  am  led  to  expect  huge  amounts  when 
some  of  the  men  get  back  from  the  Labrador,  and 
still  more  will  flood  my  coffers  if  the  shore  catch 
is  good  and  all  sorts  of  other  wonderful  things 
happen.  These  people  actually  mean  it,  and 
worry  themselves  considerably  over  the  matter. 
Some  of  the  idiots  actually  refuse  to  send  for  me 
for  the  specious  reason  that  they  have  nothing  to 
pay  me  with,  and  permit  themselves  to  die  off  in 
the  silliest  way,  without  my  assistance." 

"Of  course  all  that  is  mostly  nonsense,"  said 
the  young  lady,  decisively,  "but — but  I  don't  ex- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

actly  see  how  you  manage  to  get  along.  Of 
course  just  one  glance  such  as  I  have  seen  that 
poor  Dick  give  you  ought  to  be  a  nice  reward  for 
any  man,  but  then  that  sort  of  thing  doesn't  ex- 
actly provide  .  .  ." 

"I  am  fortunate  in  having  a  little  money 
which,  in  Sweetapple  Cove,  stretches  out  to  a 
fairly  important  income,  so  that  I  am  able  to  in- 
vest in  futures,  if  that  be  the  proper  financial 
term.  In  the  meanwhile  I  am  having  a  rather 
good  time,"  I  answered. 

For  quite  a  while  she  remained  silent,  seeming 
to  be  engaged  in  profound  calculations.  After 
this  she  again  watched  the  waters  and  the  rugged 
coast,  and  the  birds  wheeling  and  screaming  over 
shoals  of  fish. 

We  soon  neared  the  entrance  to  Sweetapple 
Cove  and  Miss  Jellifre  looked  at  it  with  renewed 
interest.  Beyond  those  fierce  ramparts  with  their 
cruel  spurs  dwelt  men  and  women,  most  of  whom 
she  probably  considered  to  be  among  the  disin- 
herited ones  of  the  earth,  eking  out  a  bare  living 
from  hand  to  mouth. 

"Isn't  it  too  bad  that  they  should  all  have  to 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  123 

strive  so  hard  for  the  little  they  get,"  she  said, 
suddenly. 

"They  do  it  willingly  and  bravely,  Miss  Jel- 
liffe,"  I  said.  "Here  as  elsewhere,  of  course,  the 
rain  falls  on  the  just  and  the  unjust,  and  usually 
spoils  their  fish." 

When  we  landed  some  men  came  out  of  the 
fish-houses,  for  the  time  of  the  midday  meal  was 
at  hand.  I  called  for  volunteers  to  bring  a  hand 
barrow. 

"Who's  got  a  bed  in  his  house  that  I  can  put 
Dick  Will  in  for  a  few  days,  till  he  gets  better?" 
I  asked. 

A  number  of  offers  were  forthcoming  at  once. 
Finally  he  was  carried  away,  with  two  sturdy  men 
at  the  handles,  while  others  walked  alongside, 
supporting  the  patient  in  a  sitting  posture.  He 
had  begun  by  protesting. 

"I  is  sure  I  kin  walk  now,  if  ye'll  let  me  try," 
he  said. 

"You  must  do  just  as  you  are  told,"  Miss  Jel- 
liffe  admonished  him.  "You  and  I  know  nothing 
about  these  things  and  we  must  obey  the  doctor. 
You  know  he  is  ever  so  proud  of  your  arm  and 


124?  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

you  mustn't  dare  to  run  chances  of  spoiling  his 
beautiful  work." 

"No,  ma'am,  not  never,"  he  declared,  properly 
ashamed  of  himself  and  quite  aghast  at  the  pros- 
pect. 

The  procession  caused  some  excitement  in  the 
village,  and  doubtless  much  discussion  on  the  part 
of  the  good  women.  I  have  no  doubt  that  some 
of  them  lectured  their  husbands  severely  for  their 
failure  to  offer  suitable  inducements.  They  are 
always  eager  to  be  helpful. 

"We  has  three  beds  i'  th'  house,"  the  lucky 
contender  had  announced,  proudly.  It  was  only 
very  late  in  the  afternoon  that  I  discovered  the 
domicile  to  be  tenanted  by  three  adults  and  seven 
children,  most  of  whom  now  cheerfully  curl  up 
on  the  floor.  This,  however,  is  never  considered 
as  a  hardship  by  a  Newfoundlander.  To  him 
anything  softer  than  a  plank  is  luxury. 

When  I  saw  Miss  Jelliffe  back  to  her  house 
she  asked  me  to  come  in  for  lunch.  I  thanked 
her  and  assured  her  that  I  would  accept  her  kind 
invitation  another  time,  as  I  had  to  go  at  once  to 
another  patient. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  125 

And  so  Miss  Jelliffe  turns  out  to  be  an  exceed- 
ingly womanly  young  woman,  which,  after  all, 
is  the  only  kind  we  poor  imperfect  men  are  able 
to  admire.  When  the  chance  came  for  her  to 
show  courage  and  sympathy  she  seized  upon  it 
instinctively.  I  am  sure  Dora  would  be  ever  so 
fond  of  her,  and  I  wish  that  they  could  meet  one 
another. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Dear  Aunt  Jennie: 

Harry  Lawrence  was  telling  me  one  day  that 
the  proper  study  of  man  is  girl,  and  vice  versa. 
It  is  his  modification  of  the  ancient  and  mossy 
saw. 

Daddy  is  doing  very  well,  and  now  that  he  is 
asleep  through  the  hypnotic  virtues  of  a  best  seller 
which  I  have  read  to  him  in  large  doses,  I  resume 
my  correspondence  with  you,  and,  incidentally, 
my  study  of  man.  He  is  really  very  interesting, 
Aunt  Jennie,  with  the  tiniest  bit  of  secretiveness 
as  to  his  own  purposes  in  life  which,  of  course, 
makes  one  more  curious  about  him.  In  a  frock 
coat,  with  gardenia  in  his  button  hole,  he  would 
make  an  ideal  usher  at  a  fashionable  wedding. 
A  few  days  ago,  when  we  took  that  trip  to  Will's 
Island,  I  observed  that  he  has  capable  limbs, 

126 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  127 

properly  clean-cut  features  and  a  general  appear- 
ance of  energetic  efficiency.  There  are  scores  just 
like  him,  that  we  meet  on  golf  links  and  tennis 
courts,  and,  in  spite  of  his  rough  garb,  he  really 
is  a  most  presentable  young  man. 

I  received  your  letter  yesterday,  and  of  course 
my  own  Auntie  Jennie  could  not  have  foreborne  to 
say  that  there  is  no  island  so  deserted  that  I  would 
not  find  a  nice  young  man  in  it.  I  consider  this 
statement  as  merely  displaying  the  most  ordinary 
and  even  superficial  acquaintance  with  the  laws  of 
gravitation. 

By  this  time  I  am  naturally  entirely  at  home 
in  the  social  circles  of  Sweetapple  Cove.  The 
ancient  dames  grin  at  me,  most  toothlessly  and 
pleasantly,  and  since  I  recklessly  distributed  all 
my  stock  of  Maillard's  among  the  urchins  I  have 
a  large  following  among  the  juvenile  population. 
To  guard  against  the  impending  famine  I  have 
obtained  from  St.  John's  some  most  substantial 
and  highly  colored  candies  at  very  little  a  pound 
which  are  just  now  quite  as  popular  to  an  undis- 
criminating  taste.  I  wish  I  had  not  been  so  prodi- 
gal with  the  other  ones. 


128  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

I  have  foregathered  with  Mrs.  Barnett  a  great 
deal  and  have  simply  fallen  in  love  with  her. 
Aunt  Jennie,  dear,  she  is  a  lady  to  her  poor  needle- 
pricked  fingers'  ends.  She  is  one  of  the  numerous 
offspring  of  an  English  parson  who  was  the  sev- 
enth or  eighth  son  of  an  inpecunious  baronet,  I  be- 
lieve. Her  husband  starved  as  a  curate  in  the 
most  genteel  fashion,  for  some  years,  and  sud- 
denly announced  that  he  was  coming  here.  We 
don't  know  whether  Ruth  was  quite  so  subservient 
after  the  wedding  was  over,  for  I  understand  that 
some  brides  change  to  some  extent  after  marriage. 
Mrs.  Barnett  was  a  Ruth  before  and  remained 
one  ever  since. 

She  quietly  packed  up  her  trunks  and  her 
infants  and  doubtless  bought  the  tickets,  as 
Mr.  Barnett  was  probably  writing  a  sermon 
or  visiting  old  ladies  up  to  the  last  moment.  Then 
she  found  herself  here  and  immediately  made  the 
best  of  it,  and  that  best  is  a  thing  to  marvel  at. 
She  is  a  beautiful,  tired-looking  thing  in  dreadful 
clothes  who  wears  an  aureola  of  hair  that  is  a 
perfect  wonder.  Her  back  is  beautifully  straight 
and  she  is  capable  of  a  smile  I  wish  I  could  imitate. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  129 

She  has  the  softest,  cultured,  sweet,  English  ac- 
cent, which  came  with  a  little  quiver  of  her  voice 
when  she  told  of  a  little  one  who  died  here,  be- 
fore there  was  any  doctor.  The  three  that  are 
left  are  to  her  as  Cornelia's  jewels. 

I  would  just  give  anything  to  bring  her  to  New 
York,  give  her  the  run  of  the  best  couturieres,  and 
show  her  to  some  of  our  diamonds-at-breakfast 
dowagers.  As  Harry  would  say,  she  would  make 
them  look  like  thirty  cents.  They  would  perish 
with  jealousy.  She  holds  the  savor  and  fra- 
grance of  centuries  of  refinement. 

Yesterday  I  went  to  their  little  church.  It 
was  built  by  Mr.  Barnett  and  the  inhabitants, 
who  cheerfully  gave  their  labor.  Every  board 
of  it  represents  untold  begging  and  saving.  It 
was  a  nice,  simple,  little  service,  in  which  the  peo- 
ple were  much  interested  and  sang  hymns  with 
fervor  and  plenty  of  false  notes.  My  voice  is 
hardly  worth  the  money  that  has  been  squandered 
upon  it,  but  such  as  it  is  I  began  to  sing  also.  To 
my  intense  dismay  I  was  soon  singing  alone,  for 
the  rest  of  the  congregation  respectfully  stopped. 
Mr.  Barnett  looked  at  me  most  benevolently  over 


130  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

his  spectacles,  but  this  was  hardly  enough  to  sub- 
due my  sudden  stage  fright. 

On  the  day  before  the  nice  little  man  called  on 
us,  soon  after  dinner,  which  here  is  a  midday 
function.  Before  this  particular  feast  I  had  apol- 
ogized to  Daddy  for  leaving  him  alone  and  going 
sailing  for  a  few  hours. 

"That's  the  worst  of  you  women-folk,"  he  re- 
buffed me.  "Just  because  a  fellow  happens  to 
be  fond  of  you,  you  must  pretend  that  you  are 
entirely  indispensable.  I  got  on  very  nicely, 
thank  you,  and  your  absence  had  no  deleterious 
influence  upon  my  leg.  There  is  some  slight  pain 
in  it,  whether  you  are  here  or  not." 

"I  know  that  the  charm  of  my  conversation 
makes  you  forget  it  at  times,"  I  told  him. 

"I  don't  deny  the  charm,'  said  Daddy,  who 
is  the  most  scrupulously  polite  man,  as  you  know, 
"but  just  now  the  delight  of  something  to  eat  is 
what  I'm  hankering  for." 

"You  are  going  to  have  Newfoundland  turkey," 
I  told  him. 

Daddy  looked  at  me  incredulously,  and  then 
his  countenance  fell. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  131 

"Don't  tell  me  you  are  referring  to  codfish," 
he  said. 

"That  is  the  sad  news,"  I  told  him.  "It  is  go- 
ing to  be  perfectly  delicious,  and  you  will  have  to 
wait  a  moment." 

So  I  turned  up  my  sleeves  and  armoured  my- 
self in  a  blue  gingham  apron  before  invading  the 
realm  of  Susie  Sweetapple,  who  only  knows  how 
to  boil  things,  including  the  tea.  Like  a  true 
artist  I  engaged  in  an  improvisation.  The  only 
really  bad  thing  about  codfish,  Aunt  Jennie,  is  its 
intrusive  quality  when  it  is  prepared  by  the  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  quintals.  Otherwise,  like 
eggs  and  potatoes,  it  is  capable  of  a  multiplicity 
of  avatars.  We  brought  the  dish  back  in  tri- 
umph. 

"Here,  at  last,  is  some  return  for  the  money 
squandered  upon  my  education,"  I  announced. 
"Aren't  you  glad  I  took  a  course  in  cookery?" 

But  Daddy  refused  to  commit  himself  until 
after  he  had  thoroughly  sampled  my  effort. 

"It  is  first  rate,"  he  said,  "and  you  can  take  an- 
other course  if  you  like." 

"You  know  I  brought  the  cookery  book  with 


132  SWEET  APPLE  COVE 

me,"  I  informed  him,  "but  I've  stopped  using  it. 
It  tells  one  to  take  pinches  of  this,  and  pints  of 
that,  and  cupfuls  of  other  things  that  have  never 
been  heard  of  in  Sweetapple  Cove.  It  is  dread- 
fully discouraging.  I  suggested  roast  beef  to 
Susie,  for  to-night,  and  she  stared  at  me  and  I 
laughed  at  my  own  folly.  There  is  just  one  re- 
cently imported  cow  in  the  place,  and  a  small 
calf,  and  they're  alive,  as  are  the  goats.  I  can't 
reconcile  my  mind  to  the  idea  of  a  live  cow  being 
beef,  and  the  calf  is  a  personal  friend  of  mine." 

"I  have  hitherto  considered  you  as  being  some- 
what ornamental,"  said  Daddy.  "Now  that  you 
are  also  proving  useful  I  am  deeming  you  a 
profitable  investment." 

So  we  had  lunch  together,  for  I  can't  get  used 
to  the  custom  of  calling  it  dinner. 

"That  was  a  splendid  sail  we  had,"  I  said. 
"The  sea  was  perfectly  delightful.  And  that 
poor  man  was  so  glad  to  be  brought  here.  Dr. 
Grant  is  doing  wonderful  things." 

"A  smart  chap,"  commented  Daddy.  "If  he 
has  to  do  this  for  a  living  I'm  sorry  for  him,  and  if 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  133 

he  isn't  compelled  to  he's  probably  some  sort  of 
useful  crank." 

"At  any  rate  Sweepapple  Cove  appreciates 
him,"  I  said. 

"I  have  no  doubt  he's  an  angel  with  pin-feath- 
ers sprouting  all  over  him,"  retorted  Dad.  "But 
it  isn't  business,  which  I  take  the  liberty  of  de- 
fining as  the  way  of  making  the  best  of  one's  op- 
portunities instead  of  frittering  them  away.  He 
has  unquestionably  done  a  few  dozens  of  poor 
devils  a  lot  of  good,  including  myself.  But  he 
could  find  many  more  cripples  in  any  big  city,  and 
a  few  of  them  might  have  bank  accounts." 

Just  then  we  heard  some  one  whistling.  I  was 
interested  to  note  that  the  tune  was  from  a  fairly 
recent  comic  opera  that  can  hardly  have  reached 
the  general  population  of  Sweetapple  Cove. 

"There  is  your  crank,"  I  said,  rather  viciously. 

He  knocked  at  the  door  and  came  in,  breezily, 
as  he  generally  does. 

"I've  got  to  be  off,"  he  announced.  "I  shall 
probably  not  return  till  to-morrow  night,  or  per- 
haps the  morning  after.  You  are  getting  along 


134  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

very  well,  Mr.  JellifFe.  Just  let  me  have  another 
look  before  I  go  away." 

The  inspection  seemed  to  be  entirely  satisfac- 
tory. 

"Well,  I'll  run  now,"  said  Dr.  Grant.  "I'll 
come  and  see  you  the  moment  I  get  back." 

He  hurried  out  again,  and  I  saw  him  join 
Sammy  and  the  Frenchman.  I  waved  my  hand 
at  him  as  the  boat  was  leaving  the  cove,  but  I  sup- 
pose that  he  wasn't  looking  for  he  made  no  an- 
swer, though  Yves  wigwagged  with  a  flaming 
bandanna. 

"Now  wouldn't  that  jar  you4?"  said  Daddy. 
"Wouldn't  it  inculcate  into  you  a  chastened 
spirit*?  Doesn't  he  consider  me  as  an  important 
patient4?  Just  comes  in  and  grins  and  runs  away 
again,  for  a  couple  of  days,  as  if  I  were  not  likely 
to  need  him  at  any  moment.  He's  the  limit!" 

"I  don't  really  think  he  is  going  away  just  for 
the  fun  of  it,"  I  objected. 

At  this  moment  Susie  Sweetapple  burst  into  the 
room  like  a  Black  Hand  bomb.  It  is  one  of  her 
little  ways. 

"Parson's  coming,"  she  declared,  breathlessly, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  135 

and  nodded  her  head  violently  to  emphasize  the 
importance  of  her  statement. 

"I  suppose  it  is  Mr.  Barnett,"  I  said.  "They 
expected  him  back  to-day.  He  has  been  away  to 
a  place  they  call  Edward's  Bay." 

"I  presume  it  is,"  assented  Daddy.  "His  ar- 
rival appears  to  cause  the  same  sort  of  excitement 
on  this  population  as  the  fire-engines  produce 
among  the  juveniles  of  New  York,  judging  from 
Susie's  display." 

The  girl  had  run  to  the  door  and  opened  it 
widely.  Then  she  backed  away  before  a  little  man 
who  removed  a  clerical  hat  that  was  desperately 
green  from  exposure  to  the  elements,  and  which 
revealed  a  shock  of  hair  of  a  dull  flaxen  hue  doubt- 
less washed  free  of  any  pigment  by  salt  spray 
and  rain.  His  garments  were  also  of  distinctive 
cut,  though  they  frankly  exposed  well-meant 
though  unvailing  efforts  at  matching  buttons  and 
repairing  small  rents.  He  bowed  to  me,  his  thin 
face  expanding  into  a  most  gentle  and  somewhat 
professional  smile,  and  he  expressed  commisera- 
tion at  the  sight  of  Daddy  in  his  bed. 

"I  hope  I  don't  intrude  upon  your  privacy,"  he 


136  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

said,  with  an  intonation  just  as  refined  as  that  of 
his  wife,  though  scarcely  as  sweet.  "I  took  the 
liberty  of  calling,  having  been  informed  of  your 
very  distressing  accident.  I  fear  you  have  not 

finished  your  repast,   and  perhaps  I  had  better 

?? 

"Do  come  in  and  take  a  seat,"  I  told  him.  "It 
is  ever  so  kind  of  you  to  call." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  Daddy, 
very  cordially.  "We  have  not  had  many  oppor- 
tunities to  welcome  visitors  here,  and  even  our 
doctor  is  too  busy  a  man  to  pay  long  calls." 

"Yes,  quite  so.  Indeed  he  is  at  times  exceed- 
ingly busy.  We  think  him  an  extremely  nice 
young  man;  quite  delightful,  I  assure  you,  and  he 
does  a  great  deal  of  good." 

The  man  was  rubbing  his  thin  little  hands  to- 
gether, with  his  head  cocked  to  one  side,  looking 
like  an  intellectual  and  benevolent  sparrow. 

I  must  say  that  I  was  impressed  by  him.  From 
conversations  with  the  fishermen  I  had  gathered 
the  impression  that  Mr.  Barnett  was  a  perfectly 
fearless  man  on  land  and  water,  and  I  had  im- 
agined an  individual  cast  in  a  rather  heroic  mold. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  137 

It  hardly  seemed  possible  that  this  little  parson 
was  the  subject  of  the  tales  I  had  heard,  for  he 
bore  a  tiny  look  of  timidity  and,  I  was  sorry  to 
see,  of  overwork  and  underfeeding.  But  the  lat- 
ter may  have  been  dyspepsia. 

"This  is  rather  a  large  field  to  which  we  have 
been  called,"  he  continued.  "It  gives  one  very 
fine  opportunities  as  well  as  some  difficulties  to 
contend  with.  But  of  course  we  keep  on  striving. 
It  is  not  missionary  work,  you  understand,  for  the 
people  are  all  very  firm  believers.  It  is  merely  a 
question  of  lending  a  helping  hand,  to  the  best  of 
one's  ability." 

"It  must  be  dreadfully  hard  at  times,"  I  put 
in.  "You  had  quite  a  long  sail  to  get  here,  didn't 
you*?  And  isn't  it  perfectly  awful  in  winter*?" 

"I  have  been  carried  out  to  sea,  and  things 
have  looked  rather  badly  sometimes,"  he  said, 
deprecatingly.  "But  one  must  expect  a  little 
trouble  now  and  then,  you  know." 

Daddy  began  to  ask  him  questions.  You  know 
how  he  prides  himself  on  his  ability  to  turn  peo- 
ple inside  out,  as  he  expresses  it.  The  poor  little 
man  answered,  slowly,  smiling  blandly  all  the 


138  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

time  and  looking  quite  unfit,  physically,  to  face 
the  perils  of  such  a  hard  life.  I  became  persuaded 
that  under  that  frail  exterior  there  must  be  a 
heart  full  of  strength  to  endure,  of  determination 
to  carry  out  that  which  he  considers  to  be  his 
duty. 

"You  know  I  really  am  afraid  I'm  a  dreadful 
coward,"  he  suddenly  confessed.  "I  have  been 
rather  badly  frightened  some  times." 

"My  father  was  the  bravest  man  I  ever  knew," 
said  Daddy,  "and  he  acknowledged  that  he  was 
scared  half  to  death  whenever  he  went  into  bat- 
tle, during  the  war.  Yet  he  was  several  times 
promoted  for  gallantry  in  the  field.  I  feel  quite 
sure  that  you  must  have  deserved  similar  advance- 
ment, more  than  once." 

Mr.  Barnett  looked  at  him,  doubtfully,  and 
with  a  funny  little  frightened  air. 

"I  am  afraid  you  must  be  chaffing  me,"  he  said, 
with  a  tentative  smile. 

"No,  sir,  I  am  not,"  clamored  Daddy. 
"Bravery  lies  in  facing  the  odds,  when  you  have 
to,  and  putting  things  through  regardless  of  one's 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  139 

fears.  The  chap  who  never  gets  scared  hasn't 
enough  brains  to  know  danger." 

The  uneasy  look  of  the  parson's  face  gave  way 
to  a  pleased  expression. 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  Daddy  getting  at  all 
the  facts,  as  he  calls  it,  and  I  suppose  that  it  is 
a  precious  talent.  In  the  shortest  possible  time 
he  knew  the  birth  rate,  the  chief  family  histories, 
the  rates  for  the  transportation  of  codfish  to  the 
remotest  parts  of  the  world,  and  how  many  bar- 
rels of  flour  it  took  to  keep  a  large  family  alive 
for  one  year,  besides  a  few  hundred  other  things. 

During  a  lull  I  asked  Mr.  Barnett  whether  he 
would  have  some  tea.  Your  cultivated  taste  is 
the  one  I  have  followed  as  regards  this  beverage, 
and  I  have  an  ample  provision.  Before  the  full- 
flavored  North  China  infusion,  which  I  kept  out 
of  Susie's  devastating  hands,  and  the  little  bis- 
cuits coming  from  the  most  British-looking  tin 
box,  I  saw  the  Reverend  Basil  Barnett,  late  of 
Magdalen,  gradually  becoming  permeated  by  a 
sense  of  something  that  had  long  been  missing 
from  his  life.  When  he  first  caught  the  aroma 


140  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

he  looked  incredulous,  then  his  features  relaxed 
in  the  smile  of  the  expert  utterly  satisfied. 

"Mrs.  Barnett  and  I  are  exceedingly  fond  of 
tea,"  he  said,  after  I  had  compelled  him  to  let  me 
fill  his  cup  for  the  third  time. 

To-morrow  I  shall  discover  some  manner  of 
making  the  dear  woman  accept  a  pound  or  two 
of  it.  The  appreciation  of  her  spouse  made  me 
think  of  some  lion-hearted,  little,  strenuous  lady 
with  an  inveterate  tea-habit.  Can  you  under- 
stand such  a  confused  statement?  I  realize  that 
it  is  badly  jumbled.  At  any  rate  he  held  his  cup 
daintily,  with  three  fingers,  and  looked  at  it 
as  Daddy  looks  at  a  glass  of  his  very  special 
Chateau-Larose. 

"I  shall  have  to  go  now,"  he  announced,  per- 
haps a  little  regretfully.  "I  hear,  Miss  Jelliffe, 
that  you  have  helped  minister  to  the  needs  of 
that  poor  Dick  Will.  I  am  going  to  see  him 
now.  By  the  way,  I  trust  I  may  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  you  to-morrow  at  our  little  church, 
if  you  can  leave  your  dear  patient  long  enough." 

"Of  course  I'll  come,"  I  promised,  "and  I  would 
be  glad  to  go  with  you  now  and  see  Dick.  I 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  141 

know  Daddy  won't  mind,  and  I  should  like  to  see 
whether  I  can  do  anything  to  make  the  man  more 
comfortable." 

"Run  along,  my  dear,"  said  Daddy. 

Mr.  Barnett  expressed  thanks,  and  we  walked 
away  together.  I  actually  had  to  shorten  my 
steps  a  little  to  accommodate  myself  to  his  quick, 
shuffling  gait.  It  is  queer,  Aunt  Jennie,  but  be- 
fore this  tiny,  unpretentious  parson  I  feel  a  sense 
of  deference  and  high  regard.  To  think  he  is  able 
to  overcome  his  fears,  that  his  gracile  body  has 
been  called  upon  to  withstand  the  bufferings  of 
storms,  and  that  his  notion  of  duty  should  appear 
to  raise  him,  physically,  to  the  level  of  these  rough 
vikings  among  whom  he  labors,  is  quite  bewilder- 
ing. And  the  best  of  it  is  that  when  he  talks  he 
is  entirely  free  from  that  didactic  authority  so 
often  assumed  by  men  of  his  cloth.  He  just  ad- 
mits you.  into  his  confidence,  that  is  all. 

"Mrs.  Barnett  has  told  me  of  your  kindness  to 
her  and  the  little  chaps,"  he  said.  "I  am  so 
pleased  that  you  have  become  acquainted.  The 
thing  a  woman  misses  most,  in  places  like  this,  is 
her  circle  of  friends.  But  she  is  the  bravest  soul 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

in  the  world,  and  although  she  worries  a  good 
deal  when  I  am  away  in  bad  weather  she  always 
looks  cheerful  when  I  return.  I  have  been  blessed 
beyond  my  deserts,  Miss  Jelliffe." 

The  little  man  looked  up  at  me,  and  I  could 
see  that  his  face  was  bright  with  happiness,  so 
that  I  had  to  smile  in  sympathy.  I  don't  know 
that  I  have  ever  realized  before  what  a  huge  thing 
love  and  affection  mean  in  the  lives  of  some  peo- 
ple, how  they  can  cast  a  glamour  over  sordid  sur- 
roundings and  reward  one  for  all  the  hardships. 

"I  am  glad  that  you  are  happy,"  I  told  him. 
"I  think  that  you  have  become  very  fond  of  the 
place  and  of  these  people." 

"I  shall  miss  them  if  ever  I  am  called  away,'* 
he  acknowledged,  looking  at  the  poor,  unpainted 
houses  and  the  rickety  flakes. 

Dear  Auntie  Jennie,  it  looks  to  me  as  if  these 
were  people  to  be  envied.  To  the  parson  life  is 
the  prosecution  of  a  work  he  deems  all-important, 
and  which  he  carries  on  with  the  knowledge  that 
there  is  always  a  helping  hand  lovingly  to  uphold 
his  own.  And  yet  I  admire  his  wife  still  more 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

deeply,  for  she  looks  like  a  queen  who  loves  her 
exile,  because  the  king  is  with  her. 

We  went  into  the  house  in  which  Dick  found 
shelter.  The  men  were  away  fishing,  of  course, 
but  two  women  were  there,  with  their  fair  share 
of  the  children  who  swarm  in  the  Cove.  At  once 
aprons  were  produced  for  the  polishing  of  the  two 
rough  chairs  of  the  establishment. 

"We  has  some  merlasses  now,"  one  of  the 
women  told  me,  proudly.  "Th'  little  bye  he  be 
allers  a  puttin'  some  on  bread  an'  leavin'  it  on  th' 
cheers." 

Daddy  is  calling  me,  so  good  by  for  the  pres- 
ent. I  am  so  glad  the  people  of  Sweetapple  Cove 
interest  you. 

Lovingly, 

HELEN. 


CHAPTER  IX 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Dearest  Auntie: 

Would  you  believe  that  the  time  here  flies  at 
least  as  fast  as  in  New  York  during  Horse-Show 
week,  although  one  gets  to  bed  earlier.  I  am  be- 
ginning actually  to  enjoy  this  place,  strange  as  it 
may  seem.  Had  it  not  been  for  poor  Daddy's 
accident  I  should  have  been  the  most  contented 
thing  you  ever  saw.  He  sends  his  love  and  says 
I've  just  got  to  learn  stenography  and  type-writ- 
ing so  that  when  he  breaks  more  legs  he  can  write 
to  you  daily.  I  believe  he's  forgotten  the  use  of 
a  pen  except  to  sign  checks  with.  His  patience 
is  wonderful,  but  he  calls  it  being  a  good  sports- 
man. I  believe  there  is  a  great  deal  in  that  word. 

It  is  queer  that  one  can  make  oneself  at  home 
in  such  a  little  hole,  and  find  people  that  are  quite 
absorbing;  I  mean  the  natives,  as  well  as  the 

144 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  145 

others.  The  whole  place  is  asleep  by  eight  or 
nine,  unless  there  has  been  a  good  catch  of  fish, 
when  the  little  houses  on  the  edge  of  the  cove  are 
full  of  weary  men  still  ripping  away  at  the  cod, 
that  are  brought  in  huge  piles  dwindling  very  fast 
after  they  are  spread  out  to  dry.  Daddy  gets 
batches  of  newspapers,  by  the  uncertain  mail,  but 
finishes  by  nine  and  requests  to  be  permitted  to 
snore  in  peace.  I  write  hurriedly  for  an  hour  or 
two,  and  finally  succumb  to  the  drowsiness  you 
may  find  reflected  in  these  pages. 

On  returning  from  my  visit  to  Dick  Will, 
Daddy  looked  at  me  enquiringly,  as  I  am  his  chief 
source  of  local  news  and  the  dear  old  man  is  be- 
coming nearly  as  absorbed  in  Sweetapple  Cove  as 
in  Wall  Street. 

"The  parson  has  gone  to  pay  other  visits,"  I 
told  him,  "but  I  couldn't  leave  you  any  longer. 
He  is  such  a  nice  little  man.  He  asked  if  he 
could  read  a  chapter  from  the  Bible,  and  Dick 
said  he  would  be  very  glad.  When  it  was  finished 
the  man  looked  as  if  he  were  thinking  very  hard, 
and  Mr.  Barnett  asked  if  anything  were  puzzling 
him.  Then  Dick  asked  about  the  ice  in  the  Sea 


146  SWEET  APPLE  COVE 

of  Galilee,  because  big  floes  were  often  ankle- 
deep  and  he  had  often  seen  men  who  looked  as  if 
they  were  walking  on  the  water.  Mr.  Barnett 
explained  that  there  was  no  ice  in  that  country." 

"And  what  did  Dick  say?"  asked  Daddy. 

"  'Then  how  does  they  do  for  s wiles'?'  "  was 
what  he  asked,  and  when  he  was  informed  that 
there  were  no  seals  in  Galilee  Dick  expressed  com- 
miseration for  the  poor  people. 

"They  are  a  pretty  ignorant  lot,"  commented 
Dad,  laughing  heartily. 

"Few  of  them  have  the  slightest  chance  of  ob- 
taining any  education,"  I  replied.  "And  Mr. 
Barnett  was  so  nice  to  him,  explaining  things. 
Then  he  said  nothing  at  all  about  the  chastening 
effect  of  suffering.  That  seems  to  be  something 
these  people  know  about.  The  parson  just  said 
that  we  were  all  so  glad  to  see  him  getting  well 
again.  You  know,  Daddy,  the  admonitions  of 
some  dominies  sound  rather  like  hitting  a  fellow 
when  he's  down.  Mr.  Barnett  isn't  that  kind." 

"I  expect  that  he  belongs  to  a  first-rate  kind, 
my  dear,"  said  Daddy.  "There  are  all  kinds  of 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  147 

religions,  but  the  only  one  I  respect  is  that  of  the 
simple,  trusting  soul." 

"I  met  Mrs.  Barnett  and  asked  her  to  come  in 
to  supper,"  I  informed  Dad.  "We  have  plenty 
of  canned  chicken  left  and  Susie's  brother  brought 
in  a  lot  of  beautiful  trout.  The  man  thought  that 
fifteen  cents  a  dozen  would  be  about  the  right 
price,  but  he  left  it  to  me,  and  I  couldn't  beat  him 
down.  When  he  brought  them  Susie  disdain- 
fully informed  him  that  fish  was  grub  for  poor 
people,  and  that  we  had  lots  of  lovely  things  in 
cans.  I  insisted  on  taking  the  trout." 

"If  you  continue  to  squander  money  in  that  way 
I'll  have  to  cut  down  your  allowance,"  threatened 
Daddy,  whereupon  I  reminded  him  that  he  had 
never  made  me  one  and  that  I  had  always  sent 
the  bills  to  him. 

He  was  laughing.  I  think  it's  the  nicest  thing 
in  the  world  for  a  girl  to  be  such  pals  with  her 
father.  I  wouldn't  give  one  of  the  nice  grey 
hairs  on  his  temples  for  all  the  nobility  and  gentry 
of  Europe  and  the  millionaires  of  America.  Then 
I  went  to  get  the  chess-board  and  the  dear  man 


148  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

gave  me  all  the  pawns  I  wanted  and  proceeded 
to  wipe  the  floor  with  me,  as  Harry  says.  We 
played  on  till  it  began  to  get  dark  and  Susie  came 
in  with  the  lamp  which  she  placed  in  the  bracket 
fastened  to  the  wall. 

"Like  as  not  it'll  be  rainin'  soon,"  she  an- 
nounced. "The  swallers  is  flyin'  low  and  the 
wind  he've  turned  to  sou-east,  so  belike  it'll  be 
pourin'  in  a  while.  How's  yer  leg  feelin'  the 
night,  Mister,  an'  is  there  anythin'  else  I  might 
be  doin'  fer  yer*?" 

"No  thank  you,  Susie,"  he  replied. 

"So  long  as  parson's  comin'  I  better  make  hot 
biscuits  too.  He's  after  likin'  them,  an'  I  kin 
open  one  o'  they  little  white  crocks  o'  jam.  He 
holds  more'n  what  ye'd  think  a  wee  bit  man  the 
likes  o'  he  would  manage  to,  though  he  don't 
never  fat  up,  an'  it  goes  ter  show  as  grub  makes 
brains  with  some  folks,  an'  blubber  in  others." 

I  could  make  no  answer  to  such  highly  scien- 
tific statements,  and  in  a  few  moments  a  knock 
was  heard  at  the  door,  upon  which  our  hand- 
maiden precipitated  herself. 

"Come    right    in,"    she    said.     "Don't    take 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  149 

notice  if  yer  boots  is  muddy  fer  I'll  be  scrubbin' 
th'  floor  ter-morrer.  Yer  must  have  been  ter  the 
Widdy  Walters,  for  they  is  a  big  puddle  afore 
her  door,  even  this  dry  weather  we've  had  couple 
o'  days.  Come  right  in  an'  welcome  fer  every- 
body's glad  ter  see  yer." 

Having  thus  amply  done  the  honors  Susie 
backed  away  and  our  two  guests  came  in.  The 
parson  actually  had  a  dress-suit  which  smelt  most 
powerfully  of  camphor  balls  and  Mrs.  Barnett 
wore  something  that  must  have  been  a  dear  little 
dress  some  years  ago,  in  which  she  looked  as  sweet 
as  sweet  can  be.  They  were  both  smiling  ever  so 
brightly,  and  the  little  lump  that  was  rising  in 
my  throat  at  the  sight  of  these  pathetic  clothes 
went  back  to  wherever  is  its  proper  place. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Jelliffe,"  said  the  parson, 
and  repeated  his  greeting  to  me.  "It  feels  a  little 
like  rain.  I  see  that  you  have  been  playing  chess. 
Dear  me,  it  is  such  a  long  time  since  I  have  had 
a  game." 

I  told  him  that  this  was  a  very  imprudent  re- 
mark, for  which  my  father  would  make  him  pay 
dearly.  I  am  afraid  his  sense  of  humor  is  drawn 


150  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

down  rather  fine,  or  lying  fallow,  or  something. 
I  had  to  explain  that  he  would  be  captured  and 
made  to  play  whether  he  wanted  to  or  not,  whereat 
he  beamed. 

Susie  came  in  again  to  get  our  little  table  ready, 
and  brought  up  the  barrel-top  which  is  her  latest 
improvisation  of  a  tray  for  Daddy's  use.  I  rose 
to  assist  in  the  preparatives  but  Susie  scorned  my 
aid. 

"Ye  jist  set  down  an'  enj'y  yerself,"  she  com- 
manded me.  "  'T  ain't  every  day  one  has  th'  par- 
son to  talk  ter.  I  kin  shift  ter  do  it  all  an'  it's 
no  use  havin'  a  dog  an'  doin'  yer  own  barkin',  like 
the  sayin'  is.  Th'  biscuits  is  done  brown  an'  th' 
kittle's  on  the  bile." 

She  ran  out  again  for  our  dishes,  and  Daddy 
turned  to  our  two  friends. 

"You  are  looking  at  an  abject  slave  and  a 
young  lady  who  is  getting  fairly  tamed,  though 
at  times  she  still  rebels.  Both  of  these  young 
women  exercise  authority  over  me  all  day  long 
until  the  ownership  of  my  own  soul  has  become 
a  moot  question.  When  my  leg  is  properly 
spliced  again  I  shall  take  that  freak  Susie  to  New 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  151 

York  and  exhibit  her  as  the  greatest  natural  curi- 
osity I  have  been  able  to  find  on  the  island." 

Mrs.  Barnett  laughed,  ever  so  pleasantly,  and 
declared  that  Susie  was  a  good  girl  whose  inten- 
tions were  of  the  best. 

Then  Daddy  went  on  to  explain  to  Mrs. 
Barnett  the  mystery  of  our  presence  here.  He 
told  how  our  second  mate  had  boasted  of  the 
salmon  that  swarmed  in  Sweetapple  Cove,  and 
how  in  a  moment  of  folly  he  had  decided  to  for- 
sake the  Tobique  for  that  year  and  explore  new 
ground.  I  was  the  one  who  had  suggested  camp- 
ing out,  practically,  if  we  could  find  a  little  house, 
while  we  sent  back  the  yacht  for  repairs,  at  St. 
John's.  We  were  expecting  it  soon.  The  ac- 
cident, of  course,  had  to  be  thoroughly  described. 

"It  was  a  beautiful  fish,  madam,  a  perfect 
beauty,"  he  went  on.  "A  clean  run  salmon  of 
twenty  pounds,  if  he  was  an  ounce,  and  as  strong 
as  a  horse.  I  had  to  follow  him  down  stream 
and,  first  thing  you  know,  I  toppled  over  those 
confounded  rocks  and  my  leg  was  broken.  The 
fish  went  away,  towing  my  best  rod  and  reel  to- 
wards the  Cove." 


152  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

The  parson  said  grace  and  we  sat  down.  I 
am  happy  to  say  that  they  enjoyed  Susie's  cu- 
linary efforts,  and  we  had  the  nicest  chatty  time. 
Just  as  we  finished  we  all  stopped  conversing  and 
listened.  The  rain  was  pelting  down  upon  our 
little  window  panes  and  the  wind  came  in  heavy 
gusts,  while,  far  away,  the  thunder  was  rolling. 
Then,  after  a  time,  we  heard  steps  upon  the  little 
porch  and  I  rose  to  open  the  door.  It  was  Dr. 
Grant,  engaged  in  the  very  necessary  formality 
of  removing  his  dripping  oilskins. 

"May  I  come  in1?"  he  asked. 

"Please  do  so,"  I  answered.  "We  didn't  ex- 
pect you  back  until  to-morrow.  My  father  will 
be  delighted  to  see  you,  as  will  your  other 
friends." 

He  came  in  and  sat  down  after  he  had  greeted 
everybody.  The  poor  man  looked  quite  worn 
and  harassed.  It  was  a  distinct  effort  that  he 
made  to  speak  in  his  usual  pleasant  way,  and  I 
could  see  that  something  troubled  him. 

"I  think  I  will  leave  you  now,"  he  said,  after 
a  few  moments.  "I  just  wanted  to  find  out  how 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  153 

Mr.  Jelliffe  was  getting  on.  They  are  expecting 
me  at  Sammy's." 

"Oh!  Do  rest  for  a  moment,"  I  told  him. 
"You  look  very  tired." 

He  sat  down  again,  looking  at  his  feet. 

"The  wind  died  down  and  the  tide  was  bear- 
ing us  away,"  he  explained.  "We  had  to  take 
to  the  oars.  Pulled  a  good  fifteen  miles.  We 
were  rather  hurried,  for  we  could  see  this  storm 
coming  up.  I'm  glad  we  made  the  Cove  just  in 
time." 

We  could  all  hear  the  rain  spattering  down 
violently.  Flashes  of  lightning  were  nearly  con- 
tinuous and  the  thunder  claps  increased  in  in- 
tensity while  the  wind  shook  our  little  house. 

"It  is  all  white  water  outside  now,"  he  said, 
listening.  "Well,  I'll  be  off  now." 

"Yer  ain't  a  goin'  ter  do  nothin'  o'  the  kind," 
interrupted  Susie,  who  had  just  entered  with  an- 
other plate.  "There's  plenty  tea  left  an'  if  there 
ain't  I  kin  make  more.  Ye  jist  bide  there  till 
I  brings  yer  some  grub.  Ye' re  dead  weary  an' 
needs  it  bad." 


154  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"Do  stay,"  I  sought  to  persuade  him. 

"Thank  you,  you  are  very  kind,"  he  said. 

One  could  see  that  for  the  moment  he  didn't 
care  whether  he  had  anything  to  eat  or  not,  yet 
he  managed  to  do  fair  justice  to  Susie's  cooking. 

"I  am  feeling  a  great  deal  better  now,"  he 
soon  announced.  "I  think  I  was  rather  fagged 
out.  We  came  back  so  early  because  I  found  I 
was  no  longer  needed.  I  am  ever  so  much  obliged 
to  you.  I'm  afraid  I  am  not  very  good  company 
to-night  and  I  will  be  back  early  in  the  morning. 
That  plaster  cast  is  getting  a  little  loose.  We 
will  split  it  down  to-morrow  and  have  a  good 
look  at  things." 

Mrs.  Barnett  had  risen  also  and  was  looking  at 
him.  In  her  eyes  I  detected  something  that  was 
a  very  sweet,  motherly  sympathy.  Her  quick 
intuition  had  shown  her  that  something  had  gone 
entirely  wrong.  Her  smile  was  so  kind  and 
friendly  that  it  seemed  to  dissolve  away  some- 
thing hard  that  had  come  over  the  surface  of  the 
man. 

"Isn't  there  anything  that  we  can  do  for  you*?" 
she  asked. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  155 

"Nothing!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  can  any 
one  expect  to  do  ?  What  is  the  use  of  keeping  on 
trying  when  one  has  to  be  forever  bucking  against 
ignorance  and  stupidity?  There  is  nothing  the 
matter  with  me.  Just  a  dead  woman  and  baby, 
that  is  all.  Just  a  poor,  hard-working  creature 
that  has  scarcely  known  a  moment  of  real  happi- 
ness in  this  world.  She  had  five  little  ones  al- 
ready, clinging  to  her  skirts,  and  a  lot  of  stupid 
neighbors.  I  know  the  kind  of  advice  she  got 
from  those  silly  old  women.  'No  use  callin'  in 
th'  doctor.  Them  things  comes  on  all  right  if  yer 
has  patience.  They  doctors  does  dreadful  things. 
I's  had  seven  an'  here  I  be,  an'  no  doctor  ever  nigh 
me.'  Oh !  I  can  hear  the  poor  fools  speaking,  and 
naturally  she  took  their  advice.  Then,  of  course, 
when  she  was  gasping  for  breath  and  beginning 
to  grow  cold  they  sent  for  me,  thirty  miles  away, 
and  when  I  landed  they  told  me  it  was  all  over, 
and  I  found  them  moaning,  with  a  wild-eyed  man 
huddled  up  in  a  corner  hardly  able  to  understand, 
and  a  lot  of  little  ones  crying  for  food." 

He  stopped  and  wiped  his  brow  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  looked  around  him,  without  appear- 


156  SWEET  APPLE  COVE 

ing  to  see  any  of  us.  It  was  like  a  pent-up  stream 
that  had  burst  from  its  dam,  and  the  flood  was  not 
yet  exhausted. 

"I  felt  like  cursing  the  lot  of  them,"  he  con- 
tinued, "and  giving  them  the  tongue-lashing  of 
their  lives.  But  much  good  it  would  have  done, 
and  I  managed  to  hold  myself  back!  I  couldn't 
help  telling  them  that  they  should  have  sent  for 
me  three  days  ago,  when  things  began  to  go 
wrong.  They  know  well  enough  how  to  weep 
over  their  misery,  but  no  one  can  make  them  use 
their  silly  heads.  They  keep  on  coming  with  in- 
fected gurry  sores  as  if  arms  could  be  saved  after 
they've  nearly  rotted  away,  and  send  for  me  to 
see  the  dying,  as  if  I  could  raise  them  from  their 
beds." 

He  had  stopped  suddenly,  and  looked  em- 
barrassed. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "I  should  not 
have  spoken  of  these  things.  They  are  all  a  part 
of  the  game.  I  daresay  I  ought  to  have  gone  up 
on  the  hill,  back  of  the  cliffs,  and  had  a  good 
bout  of  bad  language  all  to  myself,  where  none 
could  hear  me." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  157 

Neither  the  parson  nor  his  wife  appeared  to  be 
the  least  bit  shocked  at  this.  They  knew  from 
long  experience  the  things  that  try  men's  souls. 

"I'm  glad  you've  spoken,"  I  told  him.  "It  has 
relieved  you,  I'm  sure,  and  we  all  sympathize  with 
you." 

Long  ago,  Aunt  Jennie,  you  told  me  that  a 
man  is  nothing  but  a  grown-up  boy.  This  one 
looked  around  the  room.  Daddy  was  smiling  at 
him  in  his  dear  friendly  fashion,  and  the  other 
two  were  kindliness  itself. 

"A  fellow  doesn't  always  take  his  medicine  like 
a  little  man,"  he  said,  apologetically,  "and  you're 
all  ever  so  good." 

Then  he  left,  still  looking  just  a  little  bit 
ashamed  of  himself,  as  I've  seen  fellows  do  in  a 
defeated  crew  when  they  have  sunk  down  for  a 
moment  on  their  sliding  seats. 

"I  think  the  boy  feels  alone,  sometimes,"  said 
Mrs.  Barnett.  "He  has  really  a  great  deal  to 
contend  with.  But  he  is  a  splendid  fellow,  and 
I'm  sorry  for  him.  Every  one  loves  him  in  Sweet- 
apple  Cove,  you  know." 

Presently  the  two  left  us,  after  I  had  prom- 


158  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

ised  to  go  to  the  little  church  on  the  next  day. 
Susie  had  come  in  with  a  lighted  lantern,  clad  to 
her  feet  in  an  ancient  oilskin  coat,  and  insisted  on 
seeing  them  home.  They  thanked  us  very  charm- 
ingly and  I  watched  their  departure,  the  reflec- 
tions of  the  light  playing  over  the  deep  puddles 
on  the  road. 

Then  I  sat  down  by  Daddy's  bed,  pondering. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  daughter,"  he 
said. 

"I  was  thinking  that  men  are  very  interesting," 
I  told  him.  "Dr.  Grant  always  looks  like  such 
a  strong  man." 

"And  now  you  think  you  have  discovered  the 
feet  of  clay?" 

"Well,  it  seemed  quite  strange,  Daddy." 

"I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  girly,"  he  said. 
"Never  make  the  fatal  error  of  thinking  any  one 
is  perfect.  It  is  a  mistake  that  young  people  are 
rather  apt  to  indulge  in.  There  are  little  weak 
points,  and  sometimes  big  ones,  in  all  of  us." 

"I  suppose  so,"  I  assented,  "but  these  were  such 
dreadful  things  he  told  us  about.  It  seems  so 
terrible  that  they  should  happen  at  all.  It  has 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  159 

made  me  feel  unhappy.  I  thought  that  doctors 
got  used  to  such  things." 

"There  are  a  lot  of  things  a  fellow  never  gets 
used  to,  my  dear,"  answered  Daddy.  "This  one 
is  young  yet,  but  he  will  probably  never  get  over 
the  sense  of  rebellion  which  comes  over  a  man, 
a  real  man,  who  finds  himself  butting  his  head 
against  stupidity  and  ignorance.  Don't  you 
make  any  mistake  about  that  fellow  Grant !  The 
poorest  kind  of  chap  is  the  one  who  is  always  let- 
ting things  slide.  This  is  a  tough,  square-jawed, 
earnest  chap,  of  the  sort  who  put  their  hearts  and 
souls  into  things,  right  or  wrong.  The  man  who 
has  never  felt  or  shown  weakness  is  a  contemptible 
egotist.  The  cocksure  fools  always  have  perfect 
faith  in  themselves.  Those  two  men,  the  big  and 
the  little  one,  are  both  pretty  fine  specimens,  and 
in  their  own  ways  they  are  equally  strong. 
They're  made  of  the  right  stuff." 

I  don't  exactly  know  why,  but  I  felt  greatly 
pleased.  Daddy  is  a  mighty  keen  man  of  the 
world,  and  his  judgment  of  others  has  been  one 
of  his  great  assets. 

"I  wish  we  could  help  too,  Daddy,"  I  told  him. 


160  SWEET  APPLE  COVE 

"We  may,  if  we  find  a  way,"  he  answered. 
"I'm  going  to  investigate  the  matter." 

When  Daddy  says  he  is  to  investigate,  some- 
thing is  going  to  drop,  with  a  dull  thud.  At 
least  that's  the  way  Harry  Lawrence  puts  it.  By 
the  way,  Aunt  Jennie,  what  has  become  of  him, 
and  why  hasn't  he  written  to  me^ 

Your  loving 

HELEN. 


CHAPTER  X 

[From  John  Grant's  Diary 

I  SLEPT  rather  late,  this  morning,  and  came  out 
of  the  house  feeling  very  fit.  Had  it  not  been 
for  my  blistered  hands  nothing  would  have  re- 
mained to  show  what  a  hard  pull  we  had  yester- 
day, excepting  the  unpleasant  feeling  that  I  made 
rather  a  donkey  of  myself  last  evening.  My  only 
excuse,  and  a  mighty  poor  one,  is  that  I  was  rather 
played  out  and  developed  a  silly  grouch. 

I  had  only  gone  a  little  way  when  I  met  Mrs. 
Barnett.  She  came  towards  me  with  her  hand 
outstretched,  smiling  in  her  usual  pleasant  way. 

"Right  again  and  topside  up,"  she  exclaimed, 
brightly.  "Sammy  was  just  telling  me  what  a 
hard  time  you  had  to  make  the  cove,  yesterday. 
Those  broad  shoulders  of  yours  give  you  an  ad- 
vantage over  my  husband.  He  would  have  had 
to  go  off  towards  North  Cove.  It  is  fine  to  be  as 
strong  and  big  as  you." 

161 


162  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"Mrs.  Barnett,"  I  said,  fervently,  "you  are  an 
awful  humbug." 

She  cocked  her  head  a  little  to  one  side,  with  a 
pretty  motion  she  sometimes  unconsciously  af- 
fects. 

"Out  with  it,"  she  said.  "Explain  yourself  so 
that  I  may  repent  and  be  forgiven." 

"There  is  nothing  to  be  forgiven  you,"  I  de- 
clared. "I  would  like  to  place  you  on  a  pedestal 
and  direct  the  proper  worshipping  of  you.  None 
but  the  most  superior  kind  of  a  woman  can  take 
a  fool  chap  and  turn  his  folly  around  so  that  he 
may  be  rather  pleased  with  it.  I  expected  a 
good  wigging  from  you,  and  deserve  it." 

"That  sort  of  thing  is  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant functions  and  privileges  of  a  woman,"  she 
answered.  "Men  need  it  all  the  time  for  the 
smoothing  out  of  their  ruffled  feelings." 

"The  men  shouldn't  allow  them  to  get  ruffled," 
I  said. 

"There  speaks  the  wise  man,"  she  laughed, 
"nor  should  the  sea  permit  itself  to  get  stormy. 
Were  you  not  explaining  to  me  the  other  day 
that  the  wind  allows  the  climbing  up  of  the  sap 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  163 

in  swaying  trees,  and  that  the  stirring  of  the 
waters  keeps  them  pure  and  fit  to  maintain  the 
unending  life  beneath  them1?" 

"It  seems  to  me  that  I  did." 

"Well,  I  suppose  that  a  little  storminess  now 
and  then  serves  some  useful  purpose  in  a  man, 
and  if  he  only  can  have  a  woman  about  him,  to 
see  that  it  doesn't  go  too  far,  it  will  do  him  a  lot 
of  good.  You  should  get  married." 

"Of  course  I  ought  to,"  I  replied,  "and  more- 
over I  would  give  everything  in  the  world  if 
only  .  .  ." 

I  interrupted  myself,  considering  that  since 
Dora  Maclennon  and  I  are  not  engaged,  and  that 
she  merely  represents  to  me  a  longing  which  I 
often  consider  as  a  hopeless  one,  I  have  no  right 
to  discuss  her,  even  with  this  dear  kind  woman. 

"You  have  already  found  the  girl1?"  asked  Mrs. 
Barnett,  her  eyes  filled  with  the  interested  sym- 
pathy always  shown  by  the  gentler  sex  in  such 
matters. 

"I  have  found  her,"  I  replied,  "but  she  is  very 
far  away  from  me,  and  it  is  just  a  case  of  having 
to  grin  and  bear  it." 


164  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Then  her  blue  eyes  opened  widely,  and  with 
an  exquisitely  gentle  touch  she  placed  her  hand 
on  my  arm. 

"You  poor  dear  boy!"  she  said,  with  the  sweet- 
est little  inflection  of  voice,  that  held  a  world  of 
friendliness  and  compassion. 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  think  I  am  in  a 
perpetually  disgruntled  state,"  I  told  her. 
"Nothing  of  the  kind!  I  eat  the  squarest  kind 
of  square  meals  every  day  and  really  enjoy  the 
work  here.  If  it  were  not  a  bit  trying,  from  time 
to  time,  it  wouldn't  be  worth  a  man's  while  to 
tackle  it." 

"That  is  the  way  to  talk,"  approved  Mrs. 
Barnett. 

So  we  shook  hands  again  and  I  left  her,  think- 
ing what  a  splendid  thing  it  must  be  for  a  fellow 
to  have  such  a  tower  of  gentle  strength  to  lean 
upon. 

I  went  over  to  the  Jellifies'  and  cut  down  the 
plaster  dressing.  The  broken  leg  is  doing  very 
well,  as  was  to  be  expected,  and  I  was  much 
pleased. 

"That's  doing  splendidly,"   I  told  him.     "A 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  165 

little  more  patience  for  a  couple  of  weeks  and 
we'll  have  you  walking  up  and  down  the  vil- 
lage, a  living  advertisement  of  my  accomplish- 
ments." 

"A  couple  of  weeks!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jelliffe. 
"That  sounds  like  three  or  four.  I  know  you  fel- 
lows. No  one  ever  managed  to  get  anything 
definite  out  of  a  doctor,  with  the  possible  excep- 
tion of  his  bill." 

I  laughed,  but  refused  to  commit  myself  by 
making  any  hard  and  fast  promises,  and  Miss 
Jelliffe  came  in. 

"Daddy  enjoyed  himself  ever  so  much  last 
evening,"  she  said.  "He  likes  Mr.  Barnett  and 
grows  enthusiastic  when  he  speaks  of  Mrs. 
Barnett.  I  must  say  that  I  share  his  views." 

"They  are  made  of  the  salt  of  the  earth,"  I 
asserted. 

"Yes,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  that,"  she  said. 
"But  doesn't  it  seem  dreadful  that  a  gently  nur- 
tured woman  should  be  placed  in  such  surround- 
ings, with  no  means  of  obtaining  anything  but 
the  barest  needs  of  existence?  She  has  to  stand 
all  the  worries  of  her  own  household  and,  in  ad- 


166  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

dition,  is  compelled  to  listen  to  the  woes  of  all 
the  others." 

"And  any  help  that  she  can  extend  to  them," 
I  added,  "saving  that  of  sympathy  and  kind 
words,  is  always  at  the  cost  of  depriving  herself 
and  her  little  ones.  And  yet  she  is  doing  it  un- 
ceasingly, and  goes  about  in  shocking  clothes  and 
with  a  smile  on  her  face,  cheerfully,  as  if  her  path 
in  life  lay  over  a  bed  of  roses." 

"That's  what  I  call  a  fine  woman,  and  a  good 
one,"  said  Mr.  Jelliffe,  "but  I'm  sure  it  is  her  de- 
votion to  that  little  man  that  has  brought  out  all 
her  fine  points.  His  people  are  her  people  and 
she  has  adopted  his  ideals." 

The  front  door  was  widely  opened  on  this  pleas- 
ant day,  and,  as  I  was  finishing  the  dress- 
ing, Miss  Jelliffe  was  dreamily  looking  out  over 
the  cove  and  following  the  circling  gulls.  I  think 
that,  like  myself,  she  wondered  at  the  simplicity 
of  it  all.  A  woman  loved  a  man  and  clung  to 
him,  and  from  that  moment  their  personalities 
merged,  and  their  thoughts  were  shared,  and  a 
rough,  rock-bound,  fog-enwrapped  land  became, 
for  all  its  hardships,  a  place  where  a  man  could 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  167 

do  great  work  while  the  woman  developed  to  the 
utmost  her  glorious  faculties  of  helpfulness  and 
tender  unselfishness. 

To  me  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  this  couple 
had  made  of  their  union  something  very  noble  in 
achievement,  though  they  were  so  quiet  and  sim- 
ple about  it  all.  In  so  many  marriages  the  part- 
nership is  but  a  poor  doggerel,  while  in  others  it 
is  a  poem  of  entrancing  beauty,  filling  hearts  with 
happiness  and  heads  with  generous  thought. 

"You  have  been  staring  at  me  for  a  whole 
minute,  Doctor,"  said  Mr.  Jelliffe,  suddenly. 
"Anything  particularly  wrong  or  fatal  in  my  gen- 
eral appearance4?" 

"I'm  sure  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said,  in  some 
confusion.  "You  are  looking  ever  so  well  and 
I  wish  I  could  hurry  your  leg  on  a  little  faster. 
Nature  has  ordained  that  bones  will  take  just 
about  so  long  to  mend.  And  now  I  am  going 
away  to  play.  Practice  happens  to  be  quite  slack 
to-day  and  Frenchy  should  be  waiting  outside 
with  my  rod.  I  am  going  to  see  whether  I  cannot 
deceive  an  innocent  salmon  into  swallowing  a  lit- 
tle bunch  of  feathers." 


168  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"How  dare  you  speak  of  such  things  to  an  in- 
veterate old  angler,  after  tying  him  up  by  one 
leg!"  exclaimed  my  patient,  shaking  his  fist  at 
me.  "You  fill  my  heart  with  envy  and  all  man- 
ner of  uncharitableness.  I  call  it  the  meanest 
thing  I  ever  heard  of  on  the  part  of  a  doctor. 
Here  I  am,  without  even  a  new  Wall  Street  re- 
port wherewith  to  possess  my  soul  in  patience. 
Run  away  before  I  throw  something  at  you,  and 
good  luck  to  you !" 

"I  haven't  dared  to  ask  Miss  Jelliffe  whether 
she  would  like  to  cast  a  fly  also,"  I  said.  "I  sup- 
pose she  will  have  to  stay  and  nurse  your  wounded 
feelings." 

"She  has  stuck  to  me  like  a  leech  since  yester- 
day morning,"  complained  the  old  gentleman, 
"excepting  for  the  short  time  when  she  went  to 
church.  I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  get  rid  of  her. 
Wish  you  would  take  her  away  with  you  and  get 
me  some  salmon  that  doesn't  come  in  cans.  She 
will  doubtless  have  plenty  of  rainy  days  during 
which  she  will  be  compelled  to  stay  indoors  with 
me,  whether  I  like  it  or  not." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  169 

"I  have  a  half  a  mind  to  take  you  at  your 
word,  to  punish  you,"  said  Miss  Jelliffe. 

"This  should  be  a  great  day  for  a  rise,"  I 
sought  to  tempt  her. 

"I  suppose  I  can  be  back  in  time  for  lunch4?" 
she  asked. 

"Certainly.  You  can  come  back  whenever  you 
want  to,"  I  assured  her. 

"Don't  you  really  care,  Daddy*?"  she  asked 
her  father. 

"What  I  care  for  is  broiled  salmon,  fresh  caught 
and  such  as  has  not  been  drowned  in  a  net  like 
a  vulgar  herring,"  answered  the  latter. 

We  were  away  in  a  few  minutes,  walking 
briskly  down  to  the  cove,  where  we  entered  a 
dory  which  Frenchy  propelled.  Our  craft  was 
soon  beached  at  the  mouth  of  the  small  river  and 
we  walked  up  the  bank  by  the  side  of  the  brawling 
water.  When  we  reached  the  first  pool  we  sat 
down  on  the  rocks  while  I  moistened  a  long  leader 
and  opened  my  fly-book. 

"I  think  we  will  begin  with  a  Jock  Scott,"  I 
proposed. 


170  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"No,  let  us  try  a  Silver  Doctor,"  she  urged  me. 
"It  seems  best  adapted  to  present  company.  It's 
just  a  fancy  I  have,  and  I'm  generally  lucky." 

As  we  were  speaking  a  silver  crescent  leaped 
from  the  still  surface,  flashed  for  a  second  in  the 
sunlight  and  came  down  again  to  disappear  in 
the  ruffled  water. 

"Heem  a  saumon  magnifique !"  exclaimed  Yves. 

"You  must  try  for  him,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  I  said. 
"You  are  to  make  good  that  statement  that  you 
are  lucky.  There  is  a  big  rock  under  the  water, 
just  over  there  where  you  see  that  dark  spot.  He 
will  be  likely  to  rest  there.  It  is  a  beautiful  clean 
run  fish.  Now  take  my  rod  and  cast  well  up 
stream  and  draw  your  fly  back  so  that  it  will 
pass  over  that  spot." 

"Oh,  no,  you  try,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "Isn't 
he  a  beauty!" 

But  I  insisted  and  she  took  the  rod,  a  fourteen- 
foot  split  bamboo.  She  looked  behind  her,  to 
see  that  the  coast  was  clear.  There  were  no 
bushes  for  her  to  hook  and  no  rise  of  ground  to 
look  out  for. 

"Steady,   Miss  Jelliffe,"   I  said.     "Don't  get 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  171 

nervous.  If  he  rises  don't  try  to  strike.  They 
will  hook  themselves  as  often  as  not.  Begin  by 
casting  away  from  that  place  until  you  get  out 
enough  line,  then  get  your  fly  a  little  beyond  that 
spot  and  draw  in  gently." 

"I've  caught  plenty  of  big  trout,"  she  said, 
excitedly,  "but  I've  never  landed  a  salmon.  I 
am  nearly  hoping  that  he  won't  take  the  fly.  I 
won't  know  what  to  do." 

"There  has  to  be  a  first  time  in  everything,"  I 
told  her.  "Just  imagine  you're  after  a  big  trout." 

She  appeared  to  become  cooler  and  more  con- 
fident, letting  out  a  little  line,  retrieving  it  nicely, 
and  lengthening  her  cast  straight  across  the 
stream.  The  rod  was  going  back  expertly,  just 
slightly  over  her  right  shoulder,  and  the  line 
whizzed  overhead. 

"Easy,"  I  advised  her;  "it  is  a  longer  rod  than 
you  are  used  to." 

She  waited  properly  until  the  line  had  straight- 
ened out  behind  her,  and  cast  again. 

"That  is  plenty,  now  for  that  rock,  Miss  Jel- 
liffe,"  I  said. 

There  was  another  cast,  with  a  slight  twist  of 


172  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

her  supple  waist.  The  fly  flew  out,  falling  two 
or  three  yards  beyond  the  rock  and  she  pulled 
back,  gently,  her  lure  rippling  the  dark  surface. 
Then  came  a  faint  splash,  a  vision  of  a  silvery 
gleam  upon  the  water,  which  smoothed  down 
again  while  the  line  came  back  as  light  as  ever. 

"Easy,  easy,  don't  cast  again  in  the  same  place," 
I  advised. 

She  obeyed,  but  sore  disappointment  was  in 
her  eyes. 

"Did  I  do  anything  wrong*?"  she  asked,  eagerly. 

"Not  a  bit.  He  never  touched  the  fly.  But  I 
always  like  to  wait  a  minute  before  casting  again 
after  a  rise,  and  I  think  we  will  put  on  a  smaller 
Doctor.  His  attention  has  been  awakened  and 
he  will  be  more  likely  to  take  it." 

I  quickly  changed  the  fly  and  Miss  Jelliffe, 
with  grim  determination,  went  to  work  again. 
Soon  she  brought  the  lure  over  the  exact  spot  but 
met  with  no  response.  Once  more  without  the 
faintest  sign  of  a  rise.  A  third  time,  and  sud- 
denly the  reel  sang  out  and  a  gleaming  bolt  shot 
out  of  the  water. 

"Now    steady,    Miss    Jelliffe!     Easy    on    his 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  173 

mouth.  Let  him  run.  If  he  slackens  reel  in. 
That's  the  way !  We'll  have  to  follow  him  a  lit- 
tle, but  try  to  keep  him  from  going  down  stream 
too  far." 

Her  eyes  were  eager  and  her  face  flushed  with 
the  excitement.  The  wisps  of  her  glorious  hair 
were  floating  in  the  wind  as  she  stepped  along  the 
bank,  steadily,  while  I  stood  at  her  side  without 
touching  her,  but  with  a  hand  ready  in  case  of  a 
slip  or  a  misstep.  Frenchy  followed  us,  carry- 
ing a  big  landing-net  and  a  gaff.  His  face  bore 
a  wide  grin  and  he  was  jumping  with  excitement. 

The  fish  turned  and  took  a  run  up  the  pool, 
again  shooting  out  of  the  water  in  a  splendid  leap. 
Then  he  turned  once  more,  giving  Miss  JellifTe 
a  chance  to  reel  in  some  line.  For  a  short  time 
he  swam  about  slowly,  as  if  deeply  considering  a 
plan  of  conduct.  At  any  rate  this  was  followed 
by  furious  fighting;  he  was  up  in  the  air  again, 
and  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  pool,  and  dashing 
hither  and  yon,  the  line  cleaving  the  water.  At 
times  he  seemed  to  try  to  shake  his  jaws  free  from 
the  hook.  Miss  JellifTe  was  now  pale  from  the 
excitement  of  it.  Her  teeth  were  close  set,  ex- 


174  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

cepting  when  she  uttered  sharp  little  exclamations 
of  fear  and  renewed  hope.  But  always  she  met 
his  every  move,  deftly,  and  was  quick  to  follow 
my  words  of  advice.  Then  followed  a  period 
of  sulking,  when  he  went  down  deep  and  refused 
to  budge,  with  the  tense  line  vibrating  a  little 
with  the  push  of  the  current.  I  began  to  meditate 
on  the  wisdom  or  folly  of  throwing  a  stone  in  the 
water  to  make  him  move,  but  suddenly  he  cut 
short  my  cogitations  and  shot  away  again,  head- 
ing up-stream. 

"Fight  him  just  a  bit  harder,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  I 
advised.  "Don't  allow  him  to  get  rested  and  try 
to  put  a  little  more  strain  on  the  rod ;  it  can  stand 
it  and  I'm  sure  he's  well  hooked." 

"But  my  arms  are  getting  paralyzed,"  she  com- 
plained, with  a  little  tense  laugh.  "They  are 
beginning  to  feel  as  if  they  would  never  move 
again." 

"I  should  be  glad  to  take  the  rod,"  I  said,  "but 
afterwards  you  would  never  forgive  me.  I  know 
that  you  want  to  land  that  fish  yourself." 

Her  little  look  of  determination  increased. 
She  was  flushed  now.  Under  the  slightly  in- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  175 

creased  effort  she  made  the  salmon  began  to  yield, 
taking  short  darts  from  side  to  side,  which  began 
to  grow  shorter. 

"Walk  down  a  little  with  him,  to  bring  him  into 
shallower  water,"  I  advised,  and  took  the  gaff 
from  Yves.  Then  I  waded  in  until  I  was  knee 
deep  and  kept  very  still,  but  the  fish  took  another 
run. 

"Never  mind,"  I  cried,  "keep  on  fighting  even 
if  your  arms  are  ready  to  drop.  A  steady  pull 
on  him.  That's  fine!  Bring  him  again  a  little 
nearer.  That's  the  way!  He  is  mighty  tired 
now;  just  a  bit  nearer.  Good  enough!" 

The  iron  of  the  gaff  disappeared  under  water. 
Miss  Jelliffe  was  giving  him  the  butt,  and  her 
lips  quivered.  Then  I  made  a  quick  move  and  a 
splashing  mass  of  silver  rose  out  of  the  stream  with 
mighty  struggling.  I  hurried  ashore  with  it  and 
held  it  up. 

The  great  contest  was  over.  Miss  Jelliffe  put 
down  the  rod  and  her  arms  sank  down  to  her  side, 
wearily,  yet  in  another  moment  she  knelt  down 
upon  the  mossy  grass  beside  the  beautiful  salmon. 

"Oh!     Isn't  it  a  beauty!"  she  cried.     "Thank 


176  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

you  ever  so  much !  Wasn't  it  a  wonderful  fight 
he  made!  I  could  never  have  managed  it  with- 
out your  help.  You're  a  very  good  teacher,  you 
know,  and  I  can  understand  now  why  you  men 
just  get  crazy  over  salmon  fishing.  I'll  be  just 
as  crazy  as  any  one  from  now  on.  How  much 
does  he  weigh?" 

I  pulled  out  my  spring  scale  and  hooked  up  the 
fish.  We  all  watched  eagerly  as  the  pointer  went 
down. 

"Twenty-two;  no,  it's  twenty-three  and  just  a 
little  bit  over.  I  know  it  is  the  best  fish  taken 
from  Sweetapple  River  this  year.  They  haven't 
been  running  any  larger,"  I  said. 

Then  we  all  sat  down  again  and  admired  the 
fish.  Frenchy  and  I  lighted  our  pipes,  and  I  took 
the  little  Silver  Doctor  from  the  leader.  It  was 
just  the  least  bit  frayed  but  still  very  pretty  and 
bright,  with  its  golden  floss  and  silver  tinsel,  its 
gold  pheasant  tips,  blue  hackles  and  multicolored 
wings. 

"I  will  be  glad  if  you  will  keep  this  fly,"  I  told 
Miss  Jelliffe.  "You  must  hold  it  as  a  souvenir 
of  your  first  salmon." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  177 

"Thank  you !  I  will  keep  it  always,"  she  an- 
swered, brightly.  "It  will  be  a  reminder  of  much 
kindness  on  your  part,  and  of  this  beautiful  day. 
Just  look  there,  above  the  pool,  where  the  little 
spruces  and  firs  are  reflected  in  the  water  that 
sings  at  their  feet  on  its  way  down.  How  still 
it  is  and  peaceful.  Oh!  It  has  been  a  glorious 
day!" 

I  must  acknowlege  that  she  was  very  charming 
in  the  expression  of  her  enjoyment.  There  is 
nothing  blase  about  this  handsome  young  girl.  I 
followed  the  hand  she  was  pointing.  The  river 
above  was  like  some  shining  road  with  edges 
jewelled  in  green  and  silvery  gems.  High  up  a 
great  osprey  was  sailing  in  the  blue,  while  around 
us  the  impudent  Canada  jays  were  clamoring. 
From  this  spot  one  could  see  no  houses,  owing  to 
a  bend  in  the  river,  and  we  were  alone  in  a  vast- 
ness  of  wilderness  beauty,  with  none  but  Frenchy 
near  us,  who  looked  like  a  benign  good  soul  whose 
gentle  eyes  shared  in  our  appreciation. 

"I  think  it  is  your  turn  to  try  the  pool,"  Miss 
Jelliffe  finally  said. 

"Not  this  morning,"  I  answered.     "You  have 


178  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

no  idea  how  the  time  has  gone  by,  and  how  much 
I  have  enjoyed  the  sport.  We  will  leave  the  pool 
now  and  go  back.  You  know  you  were  anxious 
to  return  in  time  for  your  father's  lunch.  From 
now  henceforth  we  will  know  this  as  the  Lady's 
Pool,  and  I  hope  to  see  you  whip  it  again  on  many 
mornings,  before  you  sail  away." 

"Please  don't  speak  of  sailing  away  just  now," 
she  said. 

I  took  up  the  rod  and  the  gaff,  while  Frenchy 
took  charge  of  the  salmon  and  the  landing-net, 
and  we  walked  down  stream,  past  the  first  little 
rapids,  to  the  place  where  we  had  left  the 
dory. 

"Won't  Daddy  be  delighted !"  exclaimed  Miss 
Jelliffe. 

"He  will  have  good  reason,"  I  answered. 

By  this  time  we  could  see  the  cove  and  its  rocky 
edges,  upon  which  the  rickety  fish-houses  and  flakes 
were  insecurely  perched  on  slender  stilts.  A 
couple  of  blunt-bowed  little  schooners  were  at 
anchor,  and  some  men  in  boats  were  catching  squid 
for  bait. 

"This  is  picturesque  enough,"  said  Miss  Jel- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  179 

liffe,  "but  I  miss  the  beauty  of  all  that  we  have 
just  left." 

"I'm  sure  you  do,"  I  answered,  "yet  this  view 
also  is  worth  looking  at.  It  is  not  like  the  peace- 
ful slumbering  villages  of  more  prosperous  lands. 
It  represents  the  struggle  and  striving  for  things 
that  will  never  be  attained,  the  hopes  of  those  yet 
young  and  the  reminiscences  of  others  becoming 
too  old  to  keep  up  the  fight.  In  many  ways  it  is 
better  than  a  big  town,  for  here  the  people  all 
know  one  another,  and  no  one  can  starve  as  long 
as  his  neighbor  has  a  handful  of  flour.  Sweet- 
apple  Cove  is  a  fine  place,  for  sometimes  the  winds 
of  heaven  sweep  away  its  smells  of  fish  and  fill 
deep  the  chests  of  sturdy  men  who  fight  the  sea 
and  gale  instead  of  fighting  one  another,  as  men 
so  often  must,  in  the  big  cities,  to  retain  their 
hold  upon  the  loaves  and  fishes." 

"I  suppose  we  all  look  for  things  that  can  never 
be  attained,"  she  repeated  after  me,  with  a  look 
of  very  charming,  frank  friendliness. 

I  sometimes  wonder  whether  I  wear  my  heart 
upon  my  sleeve  for  those  pleasant  daws  to  peck 
at.  At  any  rate  they  do  it  gently,  and  both  Mrs. 


180  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Barnett  and  this  young  lady  are  birds  of  a  very 
fine  feather. 

So  we  entered  the  boat  and  were  rowed  over 
to  the  landing-place,  but  a  few  hundred  yards 
away,  where  the  Frenchman's  little  fellow  was 
waiting,  patiently,  with  one  arm  around  a  woolly 
pup  with  which  he  seemed  to  be  great  friends. 
As  soon  as  we  were  ashore  he  left  the  dog  and  came 
up  to  Miss  Jelliffe. 

"Bonjour,"  he  said.     "Je  faime  bien" 

Yves  blushed  and  smiled,  apologetically,  at 
this  very  sudden  declaration  of  love,  but  the  girl 
stooped,  laughing,  and  kissed  the  little  chap,  pass- 
ing her  hand  over  his  yellow  locks. 

One  is  ever  seeing  it,  this  love  of  women  for 
the  little  ones  and  the  weaklings.  We  men  are 
proud  of  our  strength,  but  may  it  not  be  on  ac- 
count of  some  weaknesses  hidden  to  ourselves  that 
women  so  often  love  fellows  who  hardly  seem  to 
deserve  them.  It  is  a  thing  to  wonder  at.  Dora, 
I  am  very  sure,  knows  all  the  feeble  traits  I  may 
possess.  Will  the  day  ever  come  when  these  may 
prompt  her  to  think  it  would  increase  her  happi- 
ness to  take  me  under  her  protecting  care"? 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  181 

"Won't  you  come  over  to  the  house*?"  Miss 
Jelliffe  asked  me. 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  rather  need  a  wash,"  I  said, 
"after  handling  your  big  salmon.  Frenchy  will 
take  it  over  to  your  house.  I  must  find  out 
whether  any  one  has  been  looking  for  me.  In 
Sweetapple  Cove  there  is  no  such  thing  as  office 
hours,  you  know.  People  come  at  any  time,  from 
ever  so  many  miles  away,  and  sit  down  patiently 
to  await  my  return." 

"Well,  good-by,  and  thank  you  again,  ever 
so  much.  You  must  certainly  come  to-morrow 
and  help  us  dispose  of  that  fish." 

She  extended  her  hand,  in  friendly  fashion, 
and  I  told  her  I  was  glad  she  had  enjoyed  her- 
self. 

"We  are  going  out  fishing  again,  are  we  not*?" 
she  asked.  "I  want  more  lessons  from  you,  and 
I  should  like  to  watch  you  at  work." 

I  told  her  that  I  would  be  very  happy,  and 
scrambled  away  up  the  path  to  Sammy's  house. 
Then  I  looked  back,  before  opening  the  door.  I 
saw  her  still  walking,  followed  by  Frenchy  who 
bore  the  salmon  in  triumph.  I  could  see  how 


182  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

lithe  she  was  and  how  the  health  and  strength  of 
out-of-doors  showed  in  her  graceful  gait. 

"It  is  not  good  for  man  to  live  alone,"  I  told 
myself,  and  after  Mrs.  Sammy  had  informed  me 
that  there  were  no  pressing  demands  for  my  serv- 
ices I  had  lunch,  after  which  I  went  to  my  room 
to  write  to  Dora.  I  am  doing  the  best  I  can  not 
to  bother  the  little  girl,  yet  I'm  afraid  I  always 
turn  out  something  like  a  begging  letter.  But  she 
always  answers  in  a  way  that  is  ever  so  friendly 
and  nice.  In  her  last  letter  she  dragged  in  again 
the  fact  that  we  were  both  still  young,  with  the 
quite  inaccurate  corollary  that  we  didn't  know  our 
own  minds  yet.  I  told  her  my  mind  was  made 
up  more  inexorably  than  the  laws  of  the  Medes 
and  the  Persians,  that  it  was  not  going  to  change, 
and  that  if  her  own  mind  was  as  yet  so  immature 
and  youthful  that  it  was  not  fully  grown,  she 
ought  to  give  me  a  better  chance  to  help  in  its 
development.  I  suppose  that  in  her  answer  she 
will  ignore  this  and  speak  of  something  else. 
That  is  what  always  makes  me  so  mad  at  Dora, 
bless  her  little  heart! 


CHAPTER  XI 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Dearest  Aunt  Jennie: 

I  was  looking  at  the  calendar,  this  morning, 
and  thought  that  some  one  had  made  an  extraor- 
dinary mistake,  but  I  am  now  convinced  that  it 
will  be  four  weeks  to-morrow  since  we  first  ar- 
rived in  Sweetapple  Cove.  Your  accounts  of  de- 
lightful doings  in  Newport  are  most  interesting, 
yet  I  am  sure  that  with  you  the  time  cannot  pos- 
sibly fly  as  it  does  here. 

At  present  dear  old  Daddy  is  reclining  in  a 
steamer  chair  on  the  porch  of  our  little  house,  and 
his  crutches  are  resting  against  the  wall.  They 
are  wonderful  things  manufactured  by  Frenchy, 
whom  Dr.  Grant  considers  as  an  universal  genius. 
When  they  were  first  brought  to  us  I  was  inclined 
to  whimper  a  little,  for  I  had  a  dreadful  vision  of 
them  as  a  permanent  thing.  It  was  a  regular  at- 

183 


184  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

tack  of  what  Daddy,  in  his  sarcastic  moments, 
calls  silly,  female  fears. 

"Don't  tell  me  he  is  always  going  to  need 
them!"  I  cried  to  the  doctor. 

This  man  has  a  way  of  setting  all  doubts  at 
rest.  Just  one  look  of  his  frank  clear  eyes  does 
it.  I  really  am  not  surprised  that  these  people  all 
just  grovel  before  him. 

"Not  a  bit,"  he  answered  decisively.  "He 
doesn't  really  need  them  now,  but  it  will  be  a 
little  safer  to  use  them  for  the  present.  In  a  week 
or  so  we  will  make  a  bonfire  of  them." 

Daddy  has  been  sitting  as  judge  and  jury  over 
his  poor  leg.  Such  measurings  with  steel  tape 
and  squintings  along  the  edge  of  his  shin-bone, 
and  such  chapters  of  queries  and  answers!  But 
now  he  is  perfectly  satisfied  that  it  is  what  he  calls 
an  A  i  job,  and  looks  at  his  limb  with  the  pride- 
ful  interest  of  a  man  who  has  acquired  a  rare  and 
precious  work  of  art. 

How  can  you  possibly  say  that  I  must  be  yawn- 
ing myself  half  to  death  and  longing  for  the 
fleshpots  of  Morristown?  If  I  could  have  my 
own  way  I  would  build  an  unpretentious  cottage 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  185 

here,  but  of  course  I  would  insist  on  a  real  bath 
tub.  And  I  would  come  and  spend  the  most 
pleasant  months,  and  cultivate  my  dear  friends 
the  populace,  and  those  delightful  Barnetts  and 
Frenchy's  kidlet,  who  is  a  darling  and  my  first 
real  conquest. 

The  doctor  and  I  have  caught  more  salmon,  and 
some  sea-trout,  and  I  have  taken  lessons  in  knit- 
ting from  some  ancient  dames  whose  fingers  trem- 
bled either  from  old  age  or  the  excitement  of  the 
distinction  conferred  upon  them.  They  don't 
despise  my  ignorance  but  are  certainly  surprised  at 
it.  I  am  not  certain  that  I  have  not  prompted  the 
arising  of  certain  jealousies,  though  I  do  my  best 
to  distribute  myself  fairly.  I  cannot  as  yet  turn 
a  heel  but  I  have  hopes.  Some  day  I  will  make 
Daddy  wear  the  things,  when  he  puts  on  enor- 
mous boots  and  goes  quail  shooting,  after  we  go 
South  again.  I  shall  select  some  day  when  he 
has  been  real  mean  to  me,  and  be  the  blisters  on 
his  own  heels ! 

The  Snowbird  is  now  riding  in  the  cove,  hav- 
ing been  manicured  and  primped  up  in  the  dry- 
dock  at  St.  John's.  Daddy  says  that  it  was  an 


186  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

economy,  for  the  dock  laborer  of  that  fortunate 
city  does  not  yet  regard  himself  as  an  independent 
magnate.  Our  schooner  and  its  auxiliary  engine 
are,  of  course,  objects  of  admiration  to  the  natives. 
They  know  a  boat  when  they  see  one.  Stefansson 
would  have  a  fit  if  he  saw  a  rope  end  that 
wasn't  crown-spliced,  or  a  flemish  coil  that  was 
not  reminiscent  of  the  works  of  old  masters.  The 
way  he  keeps  his  poor  crew  polishing  the  brasses 
must  make  life  dreary  for  them,  yet  they  seem  to 
scrub  away  without  repining.  I  have  told  you 
that  Jim  Brown,  our  second,  is  a  native  of  these 
parts  and  responsible  for  our  coming.  Now  he 
lords  it  in  the  village  dwellings,  where  he  is  con- 
sidered as  a  far-traveled  man  who  can  relate  mar- 
velous tales  of  great  adventures  to  breathless 
audiences. 

Daddy,  of  course,  directed  that  every  one 
should  be  made  welcome  on  board.  You  should 
have  seen  these  big  fishermen  coyly  removing 
their  heavy  boots  before  treading  our  decks — I  be- 
lieve that  "snowy  deck"  is  the  proper  term — lest 
they  should  mar  the  holystoned  smoothness. 
They  have  entered  with  bated  breath  the  dining 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  187 

and  sitting  room,  explored  the  mysteries  of  the 
galley  and  peeped  into  the  staterooms. 

"Jim  he've  written  once  ter  the  sister  o'  he," 
Captain  Sammy  told  me  one  day.  "He  were 
tellin'  how  them  yachts  wuz  all  fixed  up  an'  we 
wuz  thinkin'  as  how  in  travelin'  he'd  got  ter  be 
considerable  of  a  liar,  savin'  yer  presence,  ma'am. 
But  now  I  mistrust  he  didn't  hardly  know  enough 
ter  tell  the  whole  truth." 

A  few  bystanders  nodded  in  approval.  I  need 
hardly  tell  you  that  our  invasion  is  still  a  sub- 
ject of  interest  in  the  place.  From  my  bedroom 
window,  where  I  was  trying  to  knit  one  afternoon, 
I  heard  some  men  who  were  conversing,  standing 
peacefully  in  the  middle  of  the  little  road,  in 
spite  of  a  pouring  rain,  which  they  mind  about  as 
much  as  so  many  ducks.  The  only  fat  man  in 
Sweetapple  Cove  was  speaking. 

"Over  to  England  they  is  them  Lards  an'  Jukes, 
what  ain't  allowed  in  them  States,  but  I  mistrusts 
them  Jelliffes  is  what  takes  the  place  o'  they  in 
Ameriky." 

"I  dunno,"  doubted  another,  "th5  gentleman 
he  be  kinder  civerlized  fer  a  juke.  Them  goes 


188  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

about  wid  little  crowns  on  the  head  o'  they,  I 
seen  a  pictur  of  one,  onst.  But  Lards  is  all  right. 
Pete  McPhay  he  saw  one,  deer  huntin',  two  years 
ago,  an'  said  he'd  talk  pleasant  to  anybody,  like 
Mr.  Jelliffe.  That's  why  I  thinks  he's  more  like 
a  Lard  nor  a  Juke." 

This  conclusion  seemed  to  meet  with  general 
approval,  and  the  men  went  on. 

Dr.  Grant  came  over  to  us  fairly  early  this 
morning,  and  joined  us  on  the  little  porch. 

"Good  morning,"  he  said.  "You  must  be  glad 
that  the  term  of  your  imprisonment  is  drawing  to 
a  close,  Mr.  Jelliffe.  You  will  soon  be  on  your 
way  home.  As  a  matter  of  fact  there  is  nothing 
to  prevent  your  leaving  in  a  few  days.  We  could 
easily  put  you  in  your  berth  on  board,  well  braced 
up,  and  in  four  or  five  days  the  Snowbird  would  be 
at  anchor  off  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  float." 

"I  am  suffering  from  the  deteriorating  influ- 
ence of  prolonged  idleness,  Doctor,"  said  Daddy. 
"I  have  become  thoroughly  lazy  now,  and  don't 
care  to  start  until  I  can  hop  on  board  without 
assistance,  and  walk  the  deck  as  much  as  I  want. 
This  daughter  of  mine  has  developed  an  uncanny 


SWEET  APPLE  COVE  189 

attachment  to  the  place;  she  sometimes  tries  to 
look  sorry  for  me,  but  she  is  having  the  one  grand 
time  of  her  childhood." 

I  protested,  naturally,  but  he  paid  no  attention 
and  went  on. 

"Now  that  I  can  sit  on  this  porch  I  get  any 
amount  of  company.  I  know  every  one  in 
the  place  and  feel  that  I  am  acquiring  the  local 
accent  through  my  prolonged  conversations  with 
the  natives.  I  am  utterly  incapable  of  thinking 
of  desirable  parcels  of  real  estate,  and  bonds  leave 
me  indifferent.  I  reckon  in  codfish  now,  like  the 
rest  of  the  population.  I  caught  myself  wonder- 
ing, yesterday,  how  many  quintals  the  Flatiron 
Building  was  worth." 

"I  am  sure  you  must  miss  your  daily  paper," 
said  the  doctor. 

"A  short  time  ago  that  was  one  of  the  flies  in 
my  ointment;  but  now  I  am  at  peace.  Why  re- 
mind me  of  it?" 

Daddy  delights  in  chess  with  the  parson  and 
long  talks  with  the  doctor.  I  can  see  that  he  has 
become  really  very  fond  of  him.  Mr.  Barnett  is 
much  more  frequently  with  him,  and  they  have 


190  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

tremendous  battles  during  which  it  looks  as  if  the 
fate  of  empires  depended  on  the  next  move,  but 
when  the  doctor  comes  Daddy  looks  ever  so 
pleased  and  his  voice  rings  out  with  welcome. 

I  announced  that  I  was  going  over  to  old 
Granny  Lasher,  who  would  get  me  out  of  trouble 
with  that  heel  I  was  puzzling  over. 

"Just  look  at  her,  Doctor,"  said  Daddy.  "Did 
you  ever  see  such  rosy  cheeks'?  This  has  done 
her  a  lot  of  good;  of  course  she  has  always  been 
a  strong  girl,  but  there  is  something  here  that  has 
golf  and  motoring  beaten  to  a  standstill.  She  is 
becoming  horribly  proud  of  getting  those  salmon. 
I  will  have  to  take  down  her  pride,  some  day, 
and  show  her  what  an  old  fellow  like  me  can 
do.  I  am  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  taking 
such  good  care  of  her." 

Now  you  and  I,  Aunt  Jennie,  know  that  men 
are  silly  things  at  best.  Of  course  I  am  grateful 
to  Dr.  Grant  for  looking  after  me  so  nicely,  but 
why  should  he  deserve  such  a  lot  of  credit  for  it1? 
Don't  all  the  nice  young  men  like  to  look  after 
girls'?  They  enjoy  it  ever  so  much.  But  some- 
how this  Dr.  Grant  enjoys  it  without  undue  en- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  191 

thusiasm.  I  am  really  ever  so  glad  that  he  never 
looks,  as  so  many  of  the  others  do,  as  if  he  were 
pining  for  the  moment  when  he  can  lay  his  heart 
and  fishy  fees,  which  he  never  gets,  at  my  feet. 
He  is  just  a  splendid  fellow,  Aunt  Jennie,  who 
looks  as  strong  and  honest  as  the  day  is  long. 
We  are  all  very  fond  of  him. 

"The  only  thing  that  hurts  is  that  I  have  had 
none  of  the  fishing,"  said  Daddy.  "I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  return  another  year  and  let  the 
Tobique  take  care  of  itself.  By  the  time  I  am 
well  enough  to  fish  there  will  not  be  another 
salmon  that  will  rise,  this  year." 

"No,  Mr.  Jelliffe,"  answered  the  doctor. 
"The  salmon  are  beginning  to  cease  their  in- 
terest in  flies,  but  the  trout  are  biting  well." 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  against  trout,"  said 
Daddy,  "but  I  feel  like  crying  for  a  salmon  as  a 
baby  cries  for  the  moon.  There  is  not  much  in 
life  outside  of  salmon  and  Wall  Street.  Even 
when  I  have  to  go  to  California  I  troll  a  little 
on  Puget  Sound,  but  it  doesn't  come  up  to  fly- 
fishing." 

I  left  them,  deeply  engaged  in  this  absorbing 


192  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

subject.  I  think  I  have  discovered  something 
rather  noteworthy  in  this  salmon  fishing.  It  is 
the  effect  that  our  interest  in  the  matter  has  on 
the  population.  To  them  a  fish  means  a  cod; 
it  is  the  only  fish  they  know.  All  others  are  un- 
deserving of  the  name,  and  are  compelled  to  ap- 
pear under  the  guise  of  their  proper  appellations. 
The  taking  of  fish  is  a  serious  business,  and  one 
that  does  not  pay  very  handsomely,  as  far  as  these 
people  are  concerned.  Therefore  they  cannot  un- 
derstand that  one  may  catch  fish  for  amuse- 
ment, and  so  we  are  enwrapped  in  a  halo  of 
mystery.  Dr.  Grant  has  told  me  that  some  of 
them  have  darkly  wondered  whether  Daddy  was 
not  investigating  this  island  with  a  view  to  buy- 
ing it  for  weird  purposes  of  his  own,  such  as  ob- 
taining a  corner  on  codfish  and  raising  the  price 
of  this  commodity  all  over  the  world.  Isn't  it 
funny  that  even  here  some  notion  of  trusts  and 
corners  should  have  penetrated?  Of  course  they 
would  be  delighted  to  have  the  price  of  cod  raised ; 
it  is  the  dream  of  their  lives. 

But  most  of  them  have  accepted  us  as  natural, 
if    freaky,    phenomena    with    which    they    were 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  193 

previously  unacquainted,  and  which  have  thus  far 
shown  no  objectionable  features.  They  have  be- 
come ever  so  friendly,  yet  never  intrusive,  and  I 
like  them  ever  so  much. 

That  poor  fellow  Dick  was  shipped  back  to  his 
miserable  little  island,  two  weeks  ago,  happy  in 
the  possession  of  a  useful  right  arm.  It  was  quite 
touching  to  hear  him  speak  of  the  doctor.  And 
speaking  about  Dick  reminds  me  of  the  man's  wife, 
with  those  peculiar  ideas  of  hers.  You  remem- 
ber about  them,  don't  you?  Would  you  believe, 
Auntie  dear,  that  all  the  other  women  about  here 
are  just  as  bad1?  They  seem  to  be  matchmakers 
of  the  most  virulent  sort.  They  boldly  ask  me  if 
I  am  going  to  marry  the  doctor,  and  when,  the 
poor  silly  things,  and  if  I  deny  the  impeach- 
ment they  bring  forth  little  smiles  of  unbelief. 

When  I  showed  my  last  stocking  to  Granny 
Lasher  she  announced  that  it  was  much  too  small. 

"Didn't  yer  ever  look  at  the  big  feet  o'  he?"  she 
asked. 

"The  big  feet  of  who*?"  I  asked,  in  an  elegant 
form  of  speech. 

"ThJ  doctor,"  she  answered. 


194  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"But  these  are  for  my  father,"  I  objected. 

"Sure,  I  ought  ter  have  knowed  that,"  she  re- 
plied. "Ye'll  be  practicin'  on  he  first,  and  when 
yer  does  real  good  work  ye' 11  be  knittin'  'em  fer 
th'  doctor." 

"Mrs.  Sammy  knits  stockings  for  him,"  I  said, 
severely. 

"Well,  when  he's  yer  man  ye'll  not  be  lettin' 
other  wimmin  folks  do  his  knittin'  fer  he,"  per- 
sisted the  ancient  dame. 

I  simply  refuse  to  argue  any  more  with  them. 
They  have  that  idea  in  their  hard  old  heads  and  it 
cannot  be  dislodged.  If  you  and  I  had  been 
Newfoundlanders,  Auntie  dear,  we  would  have 
married  early  and  been  expected  to  knit  stockings, 
in  the  intervals  of  work  on  the  flakes,  for  the  rest 
of  our  natural  lives.  The  maidens  of  this  island 
entertain  visions  of  coming  years  devoted  to  the 
rearing  of  perfect  herds  of  children,  to  assorted 
household  work,  to  drying  fish  and  knitting  stock- 
ings for  their  lords  and  masters,  until  the  end. 

I  even  have  a  suspicion  of  Mrs.  Barnett,  sweet 
good  soul  though  she  be.  I  walked  up  to  her 
house  yesterday,  having  met  Dr.  Grant  on  the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  195 

way.  He  left  me  at  her  door,  and  when  I  came 
in  she  looked  at  me,  wistfully,  and  I  intercepted 
the  tiniest  little  sigh  from  her. 

"What  is  the  trouble?"  I  asked  her. 

"Oh!  Nothing  in  the  world,  my  dear,"  she 
answered,  in  that  sweetly  toned  voice  of  hers. 
"Do  you  know,  when  you  were  coming  up  the 
path  I  though  that  you  and  the  doctor  made  the 
handsomest  couple  I  have  ever  seen." 

I  laughed  right  out,  perhaps  because  I  sought 
to  conceal  the  fact  that  I  was  just  the  tiniest  bit 
provoked.  She  had  said  this  with  a  little  hesi- 
tancy, as  if  she  had  been  just  timidly  venturing 
on  deep  waters.  She  looked  at  me,  and  I  think 
she  sighed  again,  and  immediately  asked  for  my 
very  expert  advice  about  cutting  into  a  piece  of 
very  cheap  goods  that  has  come  from  St.  John's, 
and  with  which  she  expects  to  make  a  dress  for 
herself.  I  felt  like  crying,  and  laid  bare  my  pro- 
found ignorance,  and  then  we  had  a  good  laugh 
together,  for  she  was  at  once  as  bright  again  as 
she  always  is.  Then  I  played  with  the  kiddies, 
who  are  cherubs,  and  we  had  tea,  and  when  I 
left  she  looked  at  me  again,  with  those  beautiful 


196  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

wistful  eyes.  I  am  afraid,  Aunt  Jennie,  that  she 
is  in  league  with  the  rest  of  the  feminine  popula- 
tion. I  think  I  am  beginning  to  be  glad  that  we 
are  going  away  soon. 

When  I  returned  to  our  house  I  found  Dr. 
Grant  still  there.  He  has  not  been  very  busy 
lately,  but  he  was  showing  symptoms  of  an  early 
departure,  returning  certain  flies  he  had  been  dis- 
cussing to  a  very  large  fly-book. 

Of  course,  Aunt  Jennie,  he  is  not  at  all  re- 
sponsible for  this  foolish  talk,  and  I  had  no  rea- 
son to  be  unpleasant  to  him. 

"I  am  sorry  you  are  going,"  I  said.  "I  hear 
that  for  the  time  being  the  crop  of  patients  is 
diminishing." 

"It  rather  looks  that  way,"  he  answered,  "and 
I  must  say  I  am  glad  of  it.  It  is  only  a  lull,  I 
suppose,  and  I'm  going  to  take  advantage  of  it. 
Sammy  reminded  me  to-day  that  September  has 
come  and  that  the  stags  are  beginning  to  shed  their 
velvet.  I  think  that  your  father  and  you  would 
like  some  venison.  I  shall  enjoy  it  too,  I  can 
assure  you." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  197 

"Oh!  How  I  wish  I  could  go,"  I  exclaimed, 
foolishly  enough. 

"But  there  could  be  nothing  easier,"  he  ex- 
plained, quietly.  "I  have  a  very  nice  little  tent 
which  I  brought  with  me  when  I  came  here,  and 
you  could  take  Susie  Sweetapple  with  you.  The 
two  men  and  I  can  build  a  little  lean-to  anywhere. 
It  is  really  worth  trying.  I  have  explored  a  bit 
of  that  country,  and  I  am  sure  you  would  enjoy 
a  look  at  it." 

"It  sounds  very  attractive,  Daddy,"  I  said. 

"If  there  is  one  thing  I  am  longing  for,"  said 
the  dear  old  man,  "it  is  a  decent  bit  of  meat.  The 
cook  on  the  yacht  and  the  steward  may  possibly 
be  able  to  fill  Susie's  place  for  a  day  or  two.  You 
go  right  along,  daughter." 

And  now,  Aunt  Jennie,  I  am  recklessly  going 
away  to  furnish  more  gossip  for  the  ladies  of  the 
place,  bless  their  poor  old  hearts.  I  have  been 
interviewing  Susie,  whose  voluble  conversation  is 
often  amusing,  and  find  that  she  also  entertains 
some  queer  ideas.  Of  course  I  undeceived  her  at 
once.  Daddy  doesn't  think  there  is  the  slightest 


198  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

impropriety  in  the  trip,  deeming  Susie  a  sufficient 
chaperon.  The  ladies  here  of  course  never  in- 
dulge in  such  masculine  pursuits  as  hunting,  but 
none  of  them  will  consider  my  doing  it  as  any 
more  wonderful  than  my  going  fishing.  It  will 
be  but  one  more  of  the  peculiar  doings  of  them 
"Merikins." 

By  the  way,  Harry  Lawrence  has  written. 
You  know,  Auntie  dear,  that  he  is  one  of  the  few 
very  nice  fellows  to  whom  I  have  had  to  hint,  as 
gently  as  possible,  that  I  am  awfully  happy  with 
old  Dad.  He  was  the  only  one  of  them  to  put 
out  his  hand,  like  the  good,  strong,  red-headed, 
football  wonder  that  he  is.  I  can  hear  him  now : 

"Shake,  little  girl,"  he  said,  smilingly.  "You 
are  not  ready  yet,  are  you?  I  am  not  going  to 
believe  that  this  is  your  last  word,  and  we'll  just 
pretend  I  didn't  speak,  and  go  on  being  good  old 
pals  as  before.  My  chance  may  come  yet." 

I  remember  that  I  felt  quite  gulpy  and  shaky 
when  he  said  that,  and  that  I  wished  at  the  time 
that  I  had  been  able  to  think  of  him  otherwise 
than  as  a  good  old  friend,  just  to  see  him  grin 
happily  again,  as  he  so  often  does.  He  tells  me 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  199 

he  has  only  just  returned  from  abroad,  having 
remained  longer  than  he  expected  to.  He  says 
that  motoring  in  Norway  is  very  interesting.  He 
also  says  he  has  half  a  mind  to  run  up  here  and 
see  what  sort  of  a  digging  we  are  living  in.  You 
know  that  Daddy  thinks  a  lot  of  him,  and  that 
Harry  dotes  on  Dad.  The  boy  thinks  there  is  no 
one  like  him,  which  shows  what  a  sensible  fellow 
Harry  is. 

Well,  I  am  going  to  bed  early,  to  prepare  for 
a  very  long  tramp  to-morrow.  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it  next  time  I  write, 

Your  loving 

HELEN. 


CHAPTER  XII 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Darling  Aunt  Jennie: 

As  the  boys  keep  on  exclaiming  in  Stalky  &  Co., 
I  gloat! 

I  have  now  utterly  and  forever  become  one  of 
those  bold  females,  as  your  cousin  Theresa  calls 
them,  who  so  far  forget  the  refinement  of  their 
sex  as  to  indulge  in  horrid  masculine  pursuits,  and 
go  afield  clad  in  perfectly  shocking  garb,  looking 
like  viragos,  to  emulate  men  in  barbarous  sports. 
After  this  open  and  glorious  confession  I  hasten 
to  tell  you  that  I  have  actually  killed  a  caribou, 
and  a  most  splendid  one.  I  suppose  that  some 
day  my  much  flattered  photograph  may  appear  in 
an  illustrated  Sunday  supplement,  under  some  such 
heading  as  "Our  Society  Dianas."  I  have  spent 

two  most  wonderful  days  and  shall  never  forget 

200 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  201 

them  if  I  grow  to  be  twice  as  old  and  plain  as 
Miss  Theresa. 

We  started  in  the  early  morning.  Of  course 
I  was  awake  before  Susie  knocked  at  my  door, 
and  only  waiting  for  her  to  help  me  lace  those 
high  boots  of  mine.  She  is  the  only  woman  I 
ever  knew  who  can  make  knots  that  will  not  come 
undone  until  you  want  them  to.  I  suppose  that 
it  is  an  inherited  trait  from  her  ancestry  of  fisher- 
men and  sailors. 

We  rowed  across  the  cove  to  the  place  where 
we  land  when  we  go  salmon-fishing.  I  was 
distressed  when  I  saw  the  size  of  the  packs  the 
men  were  carrying,  for  it  looked  as  if  they  had 
prepared  for  an  excursion  beyond  the  Arctic  Cir- 
cle, and  of  course  it  was  chiefly  on  my  account. 
Susie  clamored  to  be  allowed  a  bundle  also  but 
neither  Sammy  nor  Frenchy  would  hear  of  it. 

"Ye'll  be  havin'  ter  help  th'  lady  when  we's 
on  the  mash,"  Captain  Sammy  told  her. 

I  discovered  later  that  the  mash  is  really  a 
marsh,  or  swamp,  or  rather  a  whole  lot  of  them. 
Sammy  opened  the  procession,  followed  by  Yves. 
Then  I  came,  aided  and  abetted  by  Susie,  and  the 


doctor  closed  the  imposing  line,  also  bearing  a  big 
pack.  Whenever  the  nature  of  the  ground  per- 
mitted Susie  would  walk  beside  me  and  im- 
part her  views.  She  trudged  on  sturdily,  her  feet 
enclosed  in  a  vast  pair  of  skin  boots  borrowed 
from  some  male  relative.  The  evident  dispropor- 
tion in  the  sizes  did  not  trouble  her  in  the  least. 

"I  got  four  pair  o'  stockins,"  she  informed  me, 
"an5  me  feet  feels  good  an'  aisy." 

A  little  later  she  imparted  to  me  some  of  her 
views  on  the  sport  we  were  pursuing. 

"Huntin'  is  man's  work,"  she  said,  "but  I 
doesn't  say  as  a  woman  can't  do  it  if  she's  a  mind 
ter,  like  anythin'  else.  One  time  I  shot  me 
brother's  gun  at  a  swile,  and  it  liked  ter  have 
knocked  me  jaw  awry.  I  had  a  lump  on  it  fer 
a  week  an'  I  let  mother  think  I  had  the  toothache. 
Anyways  I  scared  the  swile  real  bad,  an'  meself 
worse.  That  time  I  were  cookin'  aboard  a 
schooner  on  the  Labrador,  as  belonged  ter  me 
cousin  Hyatt,  him  as  is  just  a  bit  humpy-backed. 
He  got  one  o'  them  dories  wid  a  glass  bottom,  an' 
they  say  his  back  crooked  a  kneelin'  down  ter  see 
the  cod,  afore  settin'  the  traps." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  203 

"What  kind  of  traps?"  I  asked  her. 

"Them  as  is  big  nets  leadin'  inter  a  pocket 
where  the  cod  gets  jest  shut  in,"  she  informed  me. 

"Wasn't  it  horrid  to  go  on  such  a  long  trip  and 
stay  on  a  boat  so  long?"  I  enquired. 

"Sure,  but  we  mostly  gets  landed  there.  They 
has  shacks  or  little  houses,  an'  flakes  built  up,  in 
some  places." 

"It  must  be  very  disagreeable,"  I  said. 

"Laws,  ma'am.  They  is  allers  some  hard 
things  about  workin'  the  best  one  knows  how  ter 
make  a  livin'  an'  help  one's  folks.  The  worst 
of  it  was  havin'  no  other  wimmin  folks  ter  talk 
to." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  were  alone  with  the 
crew?" 

"Sure,  ma'am.  They  wouldn't  have  no  use  fer 
a  lot  o'  wimmin.  They  was  a  chap  once  as  wanted 
ter  kiss  me  an'  I  hove  th'  back  of  me  fist  ter  his 
jaw,  most  shockin'  hard.  It  give  me  sore 
knuckles,  too,  but  I  reckon  a  girl  kin  allers  take 
care  of  herself  an'  she  has  a  mind  ter." 

I  looked  at  her  vigorous  shoulders  and  was  dis- 
posed to  agree  with  her  statement.  It  is  a  splen- 


204  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

did  thing,  Aunt  Jennie,  for  girls  to  be  strong  and 
sturdy  enough  to  help  themselves,  sometimes,  as 
well  as  to  help  others.  I  have  a  notion  that  it 
is  a  good  thing  that  the  day  is  passing  away  of 
the  girls  of  the  fainting  sort  who  were  brought 
up  to  backboards  and  mincing  manners.  That 
girl  has  self-reliance  and  willingness  stamped  all 
over  her,  and  it  is  good  to  see. 

The  men  were  going  well.  At  first  I  had 
been  surprised  at  the  slowness  of  their  gait,  but 
I  soon  realized  that  they  could  keep  it  up  all  day, 
in  spite  of  their  loads.  Yet  once  an  hour  they 
stopped  for  a  breathing  spell  of  a  few  minutes, 
during  which  they  wiped  their  foreheads  and 
sometimes  had  a  pull  at  their  pipes.  We  no 
longer  had  any  view  of  the  sea.  Below  us  and 
to  one  side,  Sweetapple  River  was  brawling  over 
rapids,  resting  in  pools,  or  riffling  over  shallows. 
It  wound  its  way  through  a  little  wooded  valley, 
fairly  well  grown  with  small  spruces  and  firs 
whose  somber  greens  were  often  relieved  by  the 
cheery,  lighter  hue  of  birches.  The  junipers,  as 
they  call  tamaracks  in  Newfoundland,  were  be- 
ginning to  shed  their  yellowing  needles,  and 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  205 

many  of  them  were  quite  bare,  or  else  dead,  with 
gnarled  limbs  fantastically  twisted. 

Several  times  we  put  up  ptarmigans,  that  flew 
away  with  the  curious  "brek-kek-kex"  that  is  their 
rallying  cry,  showing  white  spots  on  their  dull- 
hued  plumage,  which  would  soon  grow  into  the 
pure,  snowy  livery  of  winter  days.  A  few  snipe 
flew  up  from  the  side  of  water-holes,  with  shrill 
cries  and  twisting  flights.  Far  away  on  the  marsh 
we  saw  a  flock  of  geese,  pasturing  like  so  many 
sheep,  while  one  of  their  number  played  sentinel, 
perched  high  up  on  a  hummock. 

"When  deer  gets  alongside  o'  geese  they  is 
happy,"  Sammy  informed  me.  "Th'  caribou 
knows  nothing  kin  get  nigh  so  long  as  the  honkers 
is  keepin'  watch." 

After  this  we  were  walking  on  one  of  many 
paths  we  had  followed,  well-trodden  and  some 
inches  below  the  level  of  the  grey  moss. 

"I  had  no  idea  there  would  be  enough  people 
here  to  make  these  paths,"  I  said  to  Dr.  Grant. 
"And  why  do  so  many  of  them  cross  from  time  to 
time?' 

"They  are  made  by  the  caribou,  every  one  of 


206  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

them,"  he  replied.  "Most  of  these  have  been 
abandoned  for  a  long  time.  The  people  of  the 
Cove  sometimes  come  as  far  as  this,  and  by  dint 
of  firing  their  heavy  sealing  guns  loaded  with  slugs 
they  may  have  made  the  deer  shy.  We  shall  soon 
see  plenty  of  tracks,  for  the  hunters  seldom  go 
farther  than  this,  Sammy  tells  me.  You  see,  they 
would  have  a  hard  time  bringing  the  meat  home. 
They  have  to  sled  it  out  with  dogs  or  carry  it  on 
their  backs.  We  are  going  farther,  since  we  are 
not  looking  for  a  whole  winter's  provision." 

The  barren  over  which  we  traveled  was  be- 
ginning to  be  much  wider,  and  the  clumps  of 
straggling  trees  less  frequent.  Far  away  there 
was  a  range  of  little  mountains,  tinted  with  pur- 
ples and  lavenders,  rather  indistinct  in  the  distant 
haze.  The  sun  was  lighting  up  bright  spots 
where  the  peat  bogs  held  miniature  lakes,  among 
which  were  tiny  islands  of  bushes  and  low  trees 
dotting  the  great  marsh.  Here  and  there  small 
tamaracks  stood  quite  apart,  as  if  their  ragged 
dress  had  caused  them  to  be  ostracized  by  the  bet- 
ter clad  spruces  and  firs. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  207 

Suddenly  the  men  stopped  near  a  little  tree, 
and  I  saw  that  much  of  its  brown  bark  had  been 
stripped  off.  On  the  white  wood  beneath  there 
were  some  curious  dark  red  spots. 

"A  big  stag  has  been  rubbing  his  horns  here 
within  a  day  or  two,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  the  doctor 
told  me.  "You  ought  to  see  one  of  them  at  work. 
Their  horns  must  itch  desperately  when  they  are 
ready  to  shed  their  velvet,  for  they  hook  away 
at  these  saplings  as  if  they  were  actually  fighting 
them.  Such  blows  as  they  give;  one  can  hear 
them  quite  far  off.  Look  at  this  place  where  the 
wood  has  actually  been  splintered  off.  These 
marks  are  dried  blood.  And  now  look  down  at 
your  feet.  This  fellow  is  surely  a  big  one,  the 
ground  is  soft  and  he  has  left  a  huge  track.  You 
will  notice  that  the  toes  are  widely  separated, 
and  that  the  dew  claws  have  also  left  their  mark. 
No  other  deer  than  the  caribou  ever  make  that 
fourfold  imprint,  and  they  only  do  it  on  muddy 
ground  or  in  snow." 

"How  I  wish  I  could  see  him!"  I  cried,  ex- 
citedly. 


208  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

He  had  taken  out  a  pair  of  field  glasses,  and  was 
sweeping  the  great  barren  with  them. 

"One  does  not  often  see  the  stags  on  the  marsh 
at  this  time  of  the  year,"  he  said.  "They  usually 
remain  in  their  lairs  among  the  alders  on  the  edges 
of  ponds  and  streams.  But  I  think  I  see  some- 
thing." 

I  strained  my  eyes  in  the  same  direction.  Far 
away,  against  the  sky-line,  I  thought  I  discerned 
little  dark  dots  which  appeared  to  be  moving,  and 
the  doctor  handed  me  the  glasses. 

"You  are  far-sighted,"  he  said.  "I  see  that 
your  eyes  have  caught  them.  Now  take  a  nearer 
look  at  them." 

"Oh !  I  can  see  them  ever  so  plainly  now,"  I 
exclaimed. 

"They  are  two  does  with  their  fawns,  I  think," 
he  said. 

"I'm  afraid  you  are  mistaken,"  I  told  him. 
"One  of  them  has  antlers,  but  not  very  large 
ones." 

"Very  true,"  he  replied,  "but  the  caribou  does, 
alone  in  the  whole  deer  family,  frequently  have 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  209 

them.  They  are  never  as  large  as  with  the 
stags." 

"I  can  see  them  feeding  along  quietly,  with 
their  noses  on  the  ground,  and  sometimes  they 
look  up,  and  now  one  of  them  is  scratching  her 
ear  with  her  hind  foot.  It  is  the  prettiest  thing 
I  ever  saw.  Now  they  are  going  on  again,  slowly. 
You  are  not  going  to  try  and  kill  them,  are  you1?" 

"A  starving  man  may  shoot  anything  for  food," 
he  answered,  "but  we  must  look  for  something  we 
would  not  be  ashamed  to  kill." 

So  they  lifted  up  their  packs  again,  and  we  re- 
sumed our  journey,  until  hunger  compelled  us  to 
stop  near  one  of  the  little  wooded  islands  growing 
out  of  the  silvery  barren.  Near  at  hand  a  tiny 
rivulet  was  tinkling,  from  which  the  kettle  was 
filled.  Sammy  and  Yves  cut  down  some  tama- 
rack sticks  while  the  doctor  undid  one  of  the  packs 
and  brought  out  a  frying-pan  and  some  tin  cups 
and  plates.  In  a  very  few  minutes  the  kettle  was 
boiling  and  bacon  frying  with  a  pleasant  sputter- 
ing. There  was  bread  and  butter,  and  a  jar  of 
marmalade. 


210  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"Thus  far  I  entirely  approve  of  caribou  hunt- 
ing," I  declared.  "I  have  an  idea  that  such  a 
picnic  as  this  must  be  the  most  delightful  part  of 
it." 

The  wind  was  blowing  briskly,  and  the  trees 
swaying  to  its  caress.  Moose-birds  began  to 
gather  around  us,  calling  out  with  voices  ranging 
from  the  shrillest  to  deep  raucous  cries,  some- 
times changing  to  imitations  of  other  birds.  They 
became  very  tame  at  once,  and  hopped  impudently 
among  us,  cocking  up  their  saucy  little  heads  and 
watching  us.  Susie  happened  to  put  a  little  bacon 
on  a  piece  of  bread,  beside  her  on  the  clean  moss, 
the  better  to  handle  a  very  hot  cup  of  tea,  and 
one  of  the  jays  pounced  upon  it  and  dragged  it 
away. 

"Git  out  o'  there,  ye  imp !"  she  cried.  "Them 
birds  would  pick  the  nails  offen  yer  boots  if  they 
was  good  ter  eat." 

"They  are  ever  so  pretty,"  I  said.  "And  oh! 
look  at  that  poor  little  chap.  He  hopped  into  the 
frying  pan  and  scalded  his  toes." 

The  indignant  bird  flew  away,  uttering  per- 
fectly disgraceful  language,  but  the  others  seemed 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  211 

to  be  quite  indifferent  to  his  fate  and  remained, 
bent  on  securing  every  discarded  crumb. 

After  this  a  flight  of  yellow-leg  snipe  passed 
by.  Dr.  Grant  began  to  whistle  their  soft  triple 
note  and  the  wisp  of  birds  circled  in  the  air,  com- 
ing nearer  and  nearer  until,  becoming  suspicious, 
they  winged  their  journey  away.  And  then  we 
were  invaded  by  a  troop  of  grosbeaks  who  gath- 
ered in  the  neighboring  bushes,  their  queer,  tiny 
voices,  seeming  quite  out  of  place,  coming  out 
of  such  stocky,  strong  little  bodies.  In  the  mean- 
while a  woodpecker  was  tap-tapping  on  a  dead 
juniper.  It  was  all  so  very  different  from  the 
cruel,  ragged  coast  with  its  unceasing  turmoil  of 
hungry  waves  breaking  upon  the  cliffs.  Here 
there  reigned  such  a  wonderful  peace,  interrupted 
only  by  the  song  of  birds.  There  were  soft  out- 
lines in  the  distance,  and  everywhere  the  scent  of 
balsams.  Of  course  it  was  all  very  desolate;  a 
vast  swamp  dominated  by  sterile  ridges  of  boul- 
der-strewn hills;  an  immense  land  of  peat-bogs 
and  mosses,  grey  and  green  and  purplish,  upon 
which  only  the  caribou  and  the  birds  appeared 
able  to  live.  Yet  it  was  no  longer  a  place  where 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

the  fury  of  the  elements  was  ever  ready  to  un- 
chain itself  against  poor  people  clinging  to  their 
bare  rocks.  The  breath  of  one's  nostrils  went 
ever  so  deep  in  one's  lungs,  and  one's  muscles 
seemed  to  gather  energy  and  respond  ever  so  much 
more  efficiently  than  they  ever  did  in  big  towns. 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  before  realized  the  beauty 
of  great  waste  places,"  I  said.  "It  looks  like  a 
world  infinite  and  wonderful,  over  which  we 
might  be  traveling  in  quest  of  some  Holy  Grail 
that  should  be  hidden  away  beyond  those  pink 
and  mauve  mountains." 

The  doctor  smiled,  in  his  quiet  way. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "One  feels  as  if  one  could  un- 
derstand the  true  purpose  of  living,  which  should 
be  the  constant  effort  to  attain  something  ever  so 
glorious  that  lies  beyond,  always  beyond." 

I  wonder  just  what  he  meant  by  that,  Aunt 
Jennie  *? 

Soon  our  little  caravan  went  on,  and  we  began 
to  see  many  tracks  of  caribou,  chiefly  does  and 
fawns.  In  low  swampy  places  we  several  times 
came  across  old  wind-  and  rain-bleached  antlers, 
shed  in  the  late  fall  of  the  previous  year. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  213 

We  had  traveled  for  a  couple  of  hours  since 
luncheon  when  we  stopped  for  another  breathing 
spell.  Sammy  was  explaining  the  lie  of  the 
country  to  the  doctor,  who  nodded.  Then  the 
latter  showed  me  a  tiny  valley  where  ran,  amid  a 
tangle  of  alders  and  dwarf  trees,  a  large  brook 
that  wandered  slowly,  with  rriany  curves,  to  join 
the  river  far  away  on  our  right. 

"At  this  time  of  the  year  there  is  not  much 
chance  of  finding  a  stag  in  the  open,"  he  said. 
"They  remain  in  places  like  that,  hidden  in  the 
alders  until  it  is  time  for  them  to  wander  off  and 
make  up  their  family  parties.  Are  you  very  tired, 
Miss  Jelliffe?" 

1  assured  him  that  I  was  still  feeling  ever  so 
fit. 

"We  are  only  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
place  where  we  are  to  camp  for  the  night,"  he  told 
me.  "The  others  will  go  there  and  get  things 
ready.  Frenchy  can  return  here  for  my  pack.  If 
you  would  like  to  come  with  me  and  hunt  along 
the  brook  we  should  make  it  a  somewhat  longer 
journey,  owing  to  the  many  bends,  but  we  should 
have  a  chance  of  getting  a  stag." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Of  course  I  told  him  that  I  should  like  it  ever 
so  much,  and  we  made  our  way  down  a  slope 
while  the  others  continued  along  the  ridge.  In- 
deed I  was  not  tired  at  all.  Notwithstanding  the 
sodden  moss  in  which  our  feet  had  been  sinking 
for  hours,  and  the  peaty  black  ooze  that  held  one 
back,  I  had  no  trouble  in  following  Dr.  Grant, 
who  was  carefully  picking  out  the  best  going. 

After  we  reached  the  brook  we  went  along  the 
bank,  but  were  soon  compelled  to  leave  it  owing 
to  the  impenetrable  tangles  of  alders,  around 
which  we  had  to  circle.  The  doctor  stopped  to 
show  me  some  tracks  of  otters,  and  then  we  came 
to  a  place  where  the  bank  was  steep,  and  a  little 
smooth  path  was  worn  down  upon  its  face,  lead- 
ing into  the  water. 

"An  otter  slide,"  he  explained.  "They  run  up 
the  bank  and  toboggan  down  into  the  water,  again 
and  again.  It  is  a  sort  of  game  they  play." 

"How  I  should  like  to  see  them !"  I  exclaimed. 

He  put  a  finger  up  to  his  lips,  enjoining  silence, 
and  led  the  way  towards  a  deep  pool.  Then  he 
turned  and  lifted  up  his  hand.  We  remained 
motionless,  hidden  behind  a  rank  growth  of  alders 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  215 

and  reeds,  and  I  suddenly  saw  a  little  black  head 
upon  the  water  and  caught  the  gleam  of  a  pair 
of  bright  eyes.  Then  came  a  splash,  and  the  ruf- 
fled water  smoothed  over.  We  waited,  but  never 
saw  him  again. 

"That  was  a  big,  old,  dog  otter,"  said  the 
doctor. 

We  continued  on  our  winding  way,  finding  a 
very  few  tracks  of  does  and  fawns,  but  occasion- 
ally we  came  across  the  broad  imprint  of  a  big 
stag. 

"He  must  be  living  somewhere  around  here," 
whispered  my  companion. 

He  looked  very  alert  now,  noting  every  sign 
and  stopping  to  investigate  the  waving  of  grasses 
and  the  motions  of  leaves.  We  peered  in  every 
tangle  of  bush  and  shrub,  and  moved  as  silently 
as  we  possibly  could. 

We  had  slowly  been  following  the  stream  for 
nearly  an  hour,  and  were  on  the  edge  of  the  brook 
when  the  doctor  quickly  knelt  down,  and  of  course 
I  followed  his  example.  He  pointed  towards 
some  alders  ahead  of  us. 

"See  those  tops  moving*?"  he  whispered. 


216  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"I  see  them  bending  with  the  wind,"  I  replied, 
in  the  same  low  voice. 

"There  is  no  wind  here,"  he  said.  "It  must  be 
a  stag  or  a  bear  in  there." 

We  kept  on  watching  and,  Aunt  Jennie,  my 
heart  was  beating  so  with  the  excitement  of  it 
that  I  could  hardly  keep  still.  But  I  insist  that 
I  was  not  the  least  bit  scared.  I  rather  think  that 
Dr.  Grant  impresses  one  as  a  man  who  could  take 
care  of  bears  or  anything  else  that  might  threaten 
one.  Presently,  above  the  green  leaves,  appeared 
something  that  looked  like  stout,  reddish  branches. 
We  could  see  them  only  for  an  instant,  and  then 
they  went  down  again. 

"It's  a  big,  old  stag,"  whispered  the  doctor. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  I  asked. 

"I  am  going  to  give  you  a  shot,"  he  said. 

"I  shouldn't  dare.  I  am  sure  I  should  miss,"  I 
answered. 

"You  must  try.  You  know  that  you  are  the 
lucky  one.  I  am  going  to  leave  you  here  with 
the  rifle  and  I  shall  crawl  back  a  little  way.  If 
we  went  on  he  would  jump  away  on  the  other 
side  of  the  alders  and  that  would  be  the  last  of 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  217 

him.  I  am  going  off  to  the  right,  and  then  I  will 
walk  slowly  towards  him.  The  river  is  shallow 
here,  and  it  is  the  only  open  spot.  He  will  surely 
jump  in  it,  and  probably  stop  for  a  second  to  see 
what  is  coming,  for  he  won't  smell  me.  You 
will  have  a  fine  chance  at  him  from  here." 

He  placed  the  gun  in  my  hands,  already  cocked, 
and  was  gone,  noiselessly,  in  an  instant.  I 
watched  those  bushes  eagerly,  and  once  again  saw 
the  big  tops  of  those  antlers  above  the  alders. 
Behind  me  everything  was  wonderfully  still,  and 
I  could  hear  the  beating  of  my  heart.  The  doc- 
tor seemed  to  have  been  swallowed  up  by  the  wil- 
derness, and  I  have  never  felt  so  entirely  alone 
as  at  that  moment.  An  instant  later  I  realized 
that  a  strange  thing  was  happening;  I  was  no 
longer  nervous,  and  my  hands  were  perfectly 
steady.  After  this,  away  to  the  right,  I  heard 
the  faintest  crackling  of  branches  and  the  horns 
appeared  again,  absolutely  still  for  a  moment. 
Then  another  little  branch  cracked,  and  there  was 
a  turmoil  in  the  bushes,  a  splashing  over  the  shal- 
low, gravelly  bottom  of  the  little  stream,  and  the 
great,  gray-brown  body  and  white,  arching  neck 


218  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

of  the  stag  appeared,  like  a  thing  out  of  a  fairy 
book.  The  head  was  noble,  poised  on  that  snowy 
neck,  and  the  antlers  looked  like  a  tangle  of  brush. 
The  lithe  thing  stopped,  the  sensitive  ears  went 
back,  and  he  started  again. 

But  the  gun  had  gone  up  to  my  shoulder,  Aunt 
Jennie,  quite  instinctively,  and  for  a  fraction  of 
a  second  I  saw  that  wonderfully  feathered  neck 
in  the  notch  of  the  sight,  then  a  brown  place  that 
was  the  beginning  of  the  shoulder,  and  I  pulled 
the  trigger.  His  long  trot  changed  to  a  furious, 
desperate  gallop.  A  leap  up  the  further  bank 
carried  him  out  of  my  sight,  and  I  was  now  so 
flurried  that  I  never  gave  him  a  second  shot.  In- 
deed I  felt  so  badly  that  I  wanted  to  sit  down  and 
have  a  good  cry. 

I  heard  the  doctor,  who  was  tearing  through 
the  bushes,  just  as  Harry  Lawrence  used  to  butt 
his  way  through  a  football  line. 

"You've  got  him,"  he  yelled.  "They  never 
run  like  that  unless  mortally  wounded.  We'll 
have  him  in  a  moment !" 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  I  cried,  breathlessly. 

"Come  on  and  see  for  yourself,"  he  answered, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  219 

and  in  our  turn  we  splashed  through  the  shallow 
water  and  found  the  track  on  the  other  side.  This 
we  very  carefully  studied,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
distinguish  it  from  others,  and  then  we  went  on, 
very  cautiously,  both  walking  on  tiptoe.  He 
was  ahead  of  me,  with  the  cocked  rifle  in  his  hand, 
but  after  going  a  short  distance  he  stopped,  sud- 
denly, and  began  to  fill  his  pipe,  with  the  most 
exasperating  coolness. 

"Why  don't  you  go  on1?"  I  asked,  indignantly. 

"Don't  you  think  I  deserve  a  pipe1?"  he  said. 

"You  don't  deserve  anything,"  I  told  him.  "I 
want  my  stag." 

"Mademoiselle  est  servie"  he  said,  laughing. 
"And  you  are  indeed  a  most  lucky  young  woman." 

"Where  is  it?  Where  is  it?"  I  cried.  "You 
are  trying  to  be  as  mean  as  can  be  just  now,  and 
I  won't  speak  to  you  again  to-day  or  any  other 
day  if  you  don't  stop." 

But  I  was  looking  around  as  I  spoke  and  sud- 
denly, under  a  little  clump  of  birches,  I  saw  some- 
thing that  made  my  heart  beat  fast  again,  and  I 
dashed  away,  shouting,  as  I  verily  believe,  and 
running  as  fast  as  the  deer  when  I  had  last  seen 


220  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

him.  I  had  the  advantage  of  the  start  and  I 
beat  the  doctor  to  the  quarry.  It  was  lying  there, 
the  most  splendid  thing  you  ever  saw,  and  I  am 
sure  I  spoke  in  awed  tones,  as  one  does  in  a  big 
cathedral. 

"I  had  no  idea  that  it  would  be  so  big.  Oh ! 
The  beautiful  clean  limbs!  And  what  a  head! 
Those  big  flat  horns  in  front  that  run  down  nearly 
to  his  muzzle  are  just  wonderful !  It  seems  to  me 
that  I  just  saw  him  for  a  second  and  pulled  the 
trigger,  and  there  was  a  little  report  that  I  scarcely 
heard,  just  as  if  the  gun  was  a  little  toy  thing, 
and  now  he  is  lying  there  and  I  don't  know 
whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry." 

"You  should  be  glad,"  he  told  me.  "You 
might  hunt  for  many  months  without  meeting 
with  such  a  head  as  that.  Now  that  it  is  all  over 
it  may  seem  a  bit  tragic,  but  you  must  remember 
he  was  just  a  tremendous,  handsome  brute, 
ready  at  all  times  to  fight  others  to  the  death,  to 
kill  them  in  his  blind  fury  of  jealousy.  And 
those  who  fall  to  the  gun  may  perhaps  have  met 
the  best  end  of  all.  Think  of  the  poor  old  stags 
dragging  themselves  to  some  tangle  in  order  to 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

escape  the  wolves  or  bears  and  lynxes,  and  whose 
last  glances  reveal  things  creeping  towards  them 
or  great  birds  waiting  to  peck  their  eyes  out.  Man 
is  seldom  as  cruel  as  nature  proves  to  be,  for  it 
is  everywhere  harsh  and  brutal.  Little  dramas 
are  constantly  taking  place  under  this  very  moss 
we  tread,  and  those  dear  little  black-headed  birds, 
over  there  in  the  bushes,  are  killing  all  day  long. 
You  and  I  realize  that  the  killing  is  the  least  part 
of  the  sport,  but  we  wanted  meat  and  came  out 
for  it  ourselves,  instead  of  hiring  butchers  to  do 
the  slaughtering  for  us.  Moreover,  you  have  a 
trophy  which  you  will  take  back  with  you,  and 
which  will  be  one  more  souvenir  of  Sweetapple 
Cove." 

I  felt  that  I  was  brightening  up  again. 

"How  beautiful  it  is !"  I  said  again,  quite  con- 
soled. "Look  at  that  long,  white  beard  under  his 
neck,  and  how  deeply  brown  his  cheeks  are!" 

"We  must  count  the  points,"  he  proposed. 

He  went  over  them  several  times,  with  the 
greatest  care. 

"There  are  thirty-nine  good  ones,"  he  said,  "be- 
sides one  or  two  little  ones  that  will  hardly  come 


ggg  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

up  to  the  mark.  It  is  a  big  beamy  head  with 
broad  flat  horns.  You  will  seldom  see  a  better 
one,  Miss  Jelliffe." 

We  sat  there  for  a  moment,  and  presently  heard 
some  one  coming  through  the  woods.  It  was  the 
two  men  who  were  hurrying  towards  us. 

"Camp  ain't  a  quarter  mile  away,"  shouted 
Sammy.  "Us  heered  the  shot  an'  come  down. 
My,  but  that  be  a  shockin'  monstrous  big  stag. 
He's  lucky,  ma'am,  doctor  is.  I  mistrust  he  don't 
miss  often." 

"Miss  Jelliffe  fired  that  shot,  Sammy,"  an- 
nounced the  doctor. 

"Well,  now !  It  do  beat  all !  So  yer  done  it 
yerself,  did  yer,  ma'am?  I'll  fix  him  up  now 
and  bring  th'  head  in  by  an'  by.  Don't  yer  be 
feared,  I  knows  how  ter  take  a  scalp  off  fine  fer 
stuffin'.  To-morrer  we'll  take  the  meat.  He's 
not  long  out  of  the  velvet.  Go  right  over  ter  the 
camp  an'  shift  yer  wet  boots.  Frenchy  he'll  show 
yer.  Kittle's  bilin'  an'  everythin's  ready.  It  do 
be  a  fine  day's  work." 

They  all  looked  so  happy  that  the  last  doubt 
left  my  mind.  Frenchy  was  positively  beaming 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

with  delight,  and  I  had  to  show  them  just  where 
I  stood  when  I  shot,  and  to  explain  everything. 
Then  we  trudged  cheerfully  towards  camp,  keep- 
ing for  a  while  by  the  edge  of  the  brook,  which 
we  had  to  cross  again.  We  came  to  a  tiny  water- 
fall, and  above  it  was  the  outlet  of  a  little  lake, 
deep  and  placid-looking.  Some  black  ducks  were 
swimming  on  it,  not  very  far  away,  and  I  was 
shown  a  beaver's  house. 

"That's  the  real,  wild  outdoors  that  I  love,"  I 
declared,  stopping  for  a  moment.  "How  calm 
and  still  it  all  is.  Look  at  the  feathery  smoke 
drifting  away  over  there.  I  suppose  it  is  the 
camp." 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  bit  of  bad  going,  over 
some  wind-fallen  trees,  and  the  doctor  held  out 
his  hand  for  me. 

"Thank  you,"  I  said.  "It  seems  to  me  that 
I  am  all  the  time  having  to  thank  you,  you  are 
always  so  kind.  I  must  say  that  you  are  a  per- 
fectly stunning  guide." 

So  we  got  to  the  camp,  laughing,  and  Susie  had 
to  be  told  the  story  all  over  again,  while  I  changed 
shoes  and  stockings  in  the  little  tent,  where  there 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

was  the  thickest  possible  bed  of  fragrant  balsam, 
covered  with  blankets. 

It  is  getting  late,  Aunt  Jennie,  and  I'll  have  to 
tell  you  the  rest  of  it  another  time.  It  was  per- 
fectly glorious. 

Really  I  think  it  is  a  pity  that  Dr.  Grant  should 
bury  himself  in  such  a  place.  He  ought  to  live 
in  our  atmosphere,  for  he  is  entirely  fitted  for  it. 

So  good  night,  Aunt  Jennie,  with  best  love  from 
your 

HELEN. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

[From  John  Grant's  Diary 

DURING  the  years  that  I  spent  abroad,  in  study, 
there  were  times  when  a  tremendous  longing  would 
come  over  me,  so  great  that  I  was  sorely  tempted 
to  run  away,  even  if  for  a  few  weeks  only,  and 
revel  in  the  satisfaction  of  my  desire.  It  would 
seize  upon  me  during  long  evenings,  when  I  was 
sometimes  a  little  wearied  with  hard  work.  I 
hungered  at  such  times  for  the  smoke  of  a  camp- 
fire,  for  its  resinous  smells,  for  the  distant  calls 
of  night  birds,  for  the  crackling  flames  that  cast 
strange  lights  upon  friendly  faces. 

All  this  was  ours  on  the  evening  we  spent  after 
our  little  caribou  hunt.  Miss  Jelliffe,  who  had 
had  some  slight  experience  with  small  target  rifles, 
made  a  good  shot  at  a  fine  stag,  and  we  were  all 
very  cheerful.  The  fire  burned  brightly  before 
the  tent  she  shared  with  Susie,  and  the  dry  dead 
pine  with  logs  of  long-burning  birch  crackled  mer- 

225 


226  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

rily.  Over  the  little  lake,  behind  the  dark  coni- 
fers and  the  distant  hills,  the  sun  had  gone  down 
in  a  glory  of  incandescent  gold  and  crimson. 

After  we  had  finished  our  supper  we  all  sat 
around  the  blaze  and  the  tales  began,  of  big  cari- 
bou and  mighty  salmon.  Yet  after  a  time,  as 
one  always  must  in  this  country,  we  drifted  off 
to  stories  of  the  never-ending  fight  against  mighty 
powers. 

Very  simply,  in  brief  sentences,  with  short  in- 
tervals to  permit  of  more  accurate  recollection, 
good  old  Sammy  opened  to  us  vistas  of  unending 
fields  of  ice  whereupon  men  slew  the  harp-seals, 
and  pictured  to  us  the  manner  in  which  the  toll 
of  death  sometimes  turns  against  the  slayers.  He 
also  spoke  of  fishing  schooners  tossed  by  fierce 
gales,  drifting  by  the  side  of  mountainous  bergs 
of  ice  rimmed  with  foam  from  the  billows  lashed 
in  fury,  and  of  seams  that  had  opened  as  the  ship 
spewed  off  its  creeping  oakum.  I  am  sure  we 
could  all  see  the  men  at  the  pumps,  working  until 
their  stiffened  arms  and  frozen  hands  refused  the 
bidding  of  brains  benumbed  by  cold  and  hunger. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  it's  hard,  mighty  hard,  times  and 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  227 

times,  but  when  yer  gets  through  wid  it  ye'll  still 
be  there,  if  yer  has  luck,  and  them  as  doesn't 
get  ketched  gets  back  ter  th'  wife  an'  young. 3uns, 
an'  is  thankful  they  kin  start  all  over  again." 

I  saw  how  interested  Miss  Jelliffe  was,  and 
did  my  best  to  draw  the  man  out.  Like  most  real 
fighters  he  was  little  inclined  to  live  his  own  com- 
bats over  again,  yet  when  he  was  once  started  it 
took  little  effort  to  keep  him  going.  After  this 
I  questioned  Frenchy,  very  carefully,  for  he  is 
even  less  inclined  than  the  other  fishermen  to  talk 
about  himself.  I  have  never  known  the  secret,  if 
there  be  one,  in  the  life  of  this  man,  alone  of  his 
people  on  this  shore,  with  that  child  of  his.  He 
is  always  ever  so  friendly,  and  looks  at  one  with 
big,  dog-like,  trusting  eyes,  but  I  have  never 
sought  to  obtain  a  confidence  he  does  not  seem  to 
be  willing  to  bestow  on  any  one.  For  this  reason 
I  merely  asked  him  whether  he  had  traveled  much 
in  foreign  lands,  as  a  sailor. 

Then,  as  he  puffed  quietly  at  his  pipe,  the  man 
gradually  expanded  just  a  little,  though  never 
speaking  of  anything  he  had  personally  accom- 
plished. His  tales,  contrasting  with  Sammy's, 


228  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

took  us  to  hot  countries,  with  names  that  were 
rather  vague  to  us. 

He  led  us  up  some  rivers  tenanted  by  strange 
beasts  wallowing  in  fetid  mud  which,  when  dis- 
turbed, sent  forth  bubbles  that  burst  with  foul 
odors,  and  made  more  unbearable  the  tepid  mois- 
ture one  had  to  breathe.  Hostile,  yellow  people 
in  strange  garb  slunk  along  the  banks,  hiding  be- 
hind bamboos  and  watching  the  boats  rowed  by 
white  men  nearly  succumbing  to  the  torpor  of  the 
misty  heat,  while  pulling  with  arms  enfeebled 
by  the  fevers  of  what  he  called  La  Riviere  Rouge. 
There  had  been  fighting,  nights  and  days  of  it, 
and  once  he  had  forgotten  everything  and  awak- 
ened on  board  a  ship  that  was  out  of  sight  of 
land.  Now  the  trade  winds  were  blowing,  and 
many  of  the  sick  and  wounded  felt  better,  yet  the 
great  sharks  kept  on  following  because  of  the 
long  bundles  that  were  daily  dropped  overboard, 
done  up  in  sail  cloth  and  weighted  at  the  feet. 
And  when  one  arrived  in  port  there  were  poor  old 
women  who  called  for  Jean-Marie  and  for  Jo- 
seph, and  who  sank  fainting  on  the  docks.  But 
others  were  happy. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

I  could  see  that  Miss  Jelliffe  was  deeply  in- 
terested in  these  tales  of  things  related  very  sim- 
ply, very  naturally,  as  if  the  sailor  had  spoken  of 
catching  squid  or  under-running  trawls.  She 
wondered,  as  I  did,  why  this  man  who  had  sailed 
so  many  seas  should  have  drifted  here  and  taken 
up  his  life  in  a  strange  land  with  the  little  yellow- 
haired  boy  in  which  his  heart  was  enwrapped. 

Sammy  and  Susie  listened  open-mouthed  to 
those  tales  of  things  they  could  not  realize  or  un- 
derstand, for  they  could  make  little  out  of  them, 
since  the  man  was  often  hard  pushed  for  words, 
using  a  good  many  from  his  own  tongue. 

"Why  don't  you  go  back  to  your  own  country?" 
asked  Miss  Jelliffe,  very  softly. 

But  he  made  no  answer,  pretending  not  to  have 
heard  her  question.  For  an  instant  she  looked  at 
him,  then  turned  her  head  away.  I  also  saw 
that  a  strange  moisture  had  gathered  in  the  big 
man's  eyes,  lighted  as  they  were  by  the  flames 
into  which  he  peered,  as  if  seeking  in  them  lost 
things  that  were  past  redeeming. 

For  some  time  we  all  remained  very  silent,  as 
if  oppressed  by  the  awe  of  these  tales,  and  I  had 


230  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

to  take  a  desperate  measure  to  change  the  trend 
of  thought.  In  a  low  voice  I  began  to  sing  a 
lilting  Irish  melody  with  a  sweet  refrain  in  which 
Miss  Jelliffe  joined,  soon  followed  by  Sammy's 
deep  tones  and  Susie's  shrill  ones,  while  Frenchy 
began  to  keep  time  with  a  blackened  pot-stick. 

So  it  was  only  a  few  minutes  before  cheerful 
thoughts  returned  to  us,  as  the  darkness  deepened 
and  the  stars  glittered,  clear  and  close  at  hand. 
Then  we  finally  said  good-night  and  Miss  Jelliffe 
sought  her  tent,  attended  by  Susie. 

We  men  went  away  to  our  lean-to,  and  talked 
a  little  longer  before  stretching  out  for  a  sound 
night's  sleep.  And  it  seemed  but  a  few  instants 
before  we  were  up  again,  with  the  sunlight  be- 
ginning to  stream  over  the  distant  hillocks  towards 
the  sea  that  was  now  hidden  from  us.  I  took 
my  rod  to  the  outlet,  where  trout  were  rising,  and 
returned  soon  to  find  that  coffee  was  being  made 
while  the  men  were  cutting  bacon  and  chopping 
more  wood. 

Then  Susie  came  to  us,  wanting  some  hot  water 
and  hurriedly  returning  to  the  tent.  Finally  the 
flaps  were  turned  aside  and  the  young  woman 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

came  out,  rosy  of  cheek  and  bright-eyed.  Susie 
had  a  small  fire  before  her  tent,  and  Miss  Jelliffe 
held  her  hands  before  it  for  a  moment.  When 
she  came  towards  us  I  was  kneeling  on  a  small 
rock  at  the  water's  edge,  cleaning  trout,  while 
Frenchy  was  scraping  away  at  the  caribou  head, 
the  scalp  of  which  hung  over  a  pole,  to  dry  a 
little  after  a  good  salting.  Sammy  was  smiting 
away  at  an  old  pine  log  for  more  firewood. 

"Good  morning,"  she  cried.  "It  is  a  perfect 
shame  that  you  allowed  me  to  sleep  so  long.  Oh ! 
The  beautiful  trout!  Where  did  you  get  them4?" 

I  explained  my  capture,  and  told  her  that  a 
few  moments  had  been  enough  to  secure  all  that 
were  needed  for  all  hands.  The  two  men  grinned 
at  her  delightedly,  as  she  went  up  to  them,  happy 
and  smiling,  and  she  had  to  inform  them  that  she 
had  spent  a  wonderful  night  of  such  sleep  as  no 
one  could  possibly  get  outside  of  the  wilderness. 

"Isn't  it  all  lovely  and  cheerful!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "Now  I  insist  on  being  useful  too. 
Won't  you  let  me  fry  the  trout?" 

She  knelt  by  the  fire,  holding  a  frying  pan 
whose  hollow  handle  had  been  fitted  with  a  long 


232  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

stick.  The  big  dab  of  butter  soon  melted,  and  in 
a  moment  the  trout  were  crepitating  and  curling 
up  in  the  pan,  sending  forth  heavenly  odors. 

"We  can  take  our  time,"  I  told  her,  "for  we 
will  not  look  for  another  stag  to-day.  All  that 
meat  is  going  to  make  a  heavy  load  to  take  back." 

"But  it  is  a  shame,"  she  said,  contritely.  "You 
were  going  for  a  hunt,  and  now  that  I  have  killed 
the  stag  you  won't  have  any  sport  at  all." 

"I  have  had  as  good  sport  as  any  man  has  the 
right  to  expect,"  I  said.  "Please  don't  believe 
that  it  all  lies  in  pulling  a  trigger.  It  is  just  this 
sort  of  thing  that  makes  hunting  glorious;  the 
cheery  fire  and  the  flapping  tent  doors,  the  breeze 
ruffling  the  lake,  the  sitting  at  night  by  the  fire  and 
the  tales  we  heard  there.  I  will  agree  never  to 
kill  a  caribou  again  if  you  will  only  furnish  me 
with  such  sport  as  this  from  time  to  time." 

"I  was  just  thinking,"  she  said,  "that  I  am  a 
law-breaker.  I  have  no  license  to  kill  caribou." 

"I  have  no  doubt  that  you  may  be  forgiven  if 
you  will  send  the  money  to  St.  John's  and  apply 
for  a  license.  Then  you  can  shoot  two  more, 
with  an  easy  conscience." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  233 

"I  will  certainly  send  it,"  she  replied,  "but  you 
ought  to  keep  that  head,  you  know." 

"No  indeed,  it  is  yours,  and  you  must  take  it 
back  with  you  to  be  mounted.  If  I  should  ever 
return  to  New  York  I  will  ask  you  to  allow  me 
to  have  a  look  at  it." 

"I  shall  never  forgive  you  if  you  don't  call," 
she  answered,  charmingly.  "But  don't  speak  just 
now  of  going  back  to  New  York.  I  don't  think 
I  shall  ever  leave  a  place  with  such  regret.  I 
simply  refuse  to  think  of  it." 

It  was  really  delightful  to  see  this  splendid 
girl,  brought  up  in  the  most  refined  surroundings 
and  yet  so  influenced  by  the  glamour  of  the  out- 
door life.  To  the  strong  and  healthful  there  can 
be  no  attraction  in  great  towns  that  may  not  be 
dwarfed  by  the  great  pulsing  of  the  lands  sought 
by  the  lovers  of  rod  and  gun.  Here  she  had 
gathered  new  ideas  and  unwonted  thoughts.  She 
is  the  best  example  I  have  ever  seen  of  the  sturdy, 
beautiful  girlhood  of  modern  life,  and  is  an  utter 
pleasure  to  look  upon. 

After  a  time  we  started  towards  Sweetapple 
Cove.  The  meat,  or  as  much  of  it  as  we  could 


234.  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

carry,  had  all  been  tied  up  in  packs.  I  was  able 
to  take  a  good  load  of  it  and  Susie  trudged  along, 
bearing  the  big  caribou  head  upon  her  shoulders. 

"  'Tain't  much  the  weight  on  it,"  she  said,  "but 
it's  clumsy.  Them  men  has  all  they  kin  lug  an' 
I'm  a  goin'  ter  hoof  it  erlong  wid  this,  jest  ter  show 
willing." 

Walking  back  seemed  quite  a  different  thing. 
After  leaving  the  little  lake  we  had  climbed  up, 
but  now  we  were  again  on  the  great  marshy  bar- 
rens which  inclined  down  towards  the  sea. 

"Now,"  said  Miss  Jelliffe,  during  a  spell  of 
resting,  "I  should  be  utterly  lost  if  I  were  alone. 
Nothing  seems  at  all  familiar  and  it  is  all  a  great 
jumble  of  little  green  islands  of  vegetation,  of 
grey  moss  that  is  endless,  of  twisted  junipers  and 
lonely  boulders.  I  don't  know  where  I  am,  but 
I  am  perfectly  happy,  since  some  one  knows  the 
way." 

Of  course  I  was  only  acquainted  with  the  gen- 
eral lie  of  the  land,  but  the  direction  was  quite 
clear  to  me.  I  wish  everything  was  as  straight- 
forward and  clear  as  the  way  to  the  Cove. 

"I   am   quite   ashamed  of  myself,"   she   con- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  235 

tinued.  "I  am  the  only  one  who  is  carrying 
nothing  and  is  perfectly  useless.  I  wonder  your 
backs  are  not  broken  with  those  tremendous 
loads." 

But  the  two  men  only  grinned. 

"It  is  nothing  when  you  get  used  to  it,"  I  said, 
"providing  one  ever  really  gets  used  to  a  hard 
grind.  But  there  are  people  to  whom  strong 
physical  effort  is  a  punishment  while  others  simply 
accept  it,  grit  their  teeth,  and  carry  the  thing  out." 

"I  suppose  one  has  to  learn  how  to  accept 
things  cheerfully,"  said  Miss  Jelliffe.  "My  life 
has  been  such  an  easy  one  that  I  have  never  had 
to  try  to  bear  heavy  burdens." 

"I  am  sure  you  will  do  it  courageously,  if  ever 
the  time  comes,"  I  answered. 

Then  we  took  up  our  packs  and  went  on,  mak- 
ing rather  slow  progress,  as  we  were  not  pressed 
for  time  and  the  loads  were  heavy.  In  the  middle 
of  the  day  we  took  our  lunch  near  a  little  brook, 
and,  after  starting  again,  we  soon  saw,  from  the 
summit  of  a  little  hill,  the  bright  and  glit- 
tering sea.  Before  us  descended  the  valley 
of  Sweetapple  River,  looking  like  a  silvery 


236  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

ribbon  winding  in  and  out  among  the  trees.  To 
one  side  of  us  there  was  a  rocky  hill,  once  swept 
by  a  storm  of  flames  and  now  tenanted  only  by 
the  gaunt  skeletons  of  charred  firs  and  tamaracks. 
In  the  mistiness  ahead  of  us  the  coast  line,  with 
its  grim  outlines  softened,  lost  itself  and  melted 
away  as  if  nature,  in  a  kindly  spirit,  had  sought 
to  throw  a  veil  over  brutal  features  and  covered 
them  with  a  mantle  of  tender  hues. 

"This  is  ideally  beautiful,"  said  Miss  Jelliffe. 
"I  can  understand  that  you  may  hesitate  to  leave 
all  this  to  return  to  the  grime  of  great  cities." 

Thus  we  returned  to  the  Cove,  and  the  girl 
hastened  to  her  father,  eager  to  tell  him  of  our 
hunt  and  to  show  him  the  great  head.  I  went 
with  her  to  the  house,  and  took  pleasure  in  seeing 
the  interest  shown  by  the  old  gentleman.  He  cer- 
tainly is  a  good  sportsman. 

"If  Helen  hasn't  thanked  you  enough,"  he  said, 
"I  want  to  put  in  my  oar.  I  am  really  extremely 
obliged  to  you  for  giving  her  such  a  good  time." 

I  left  in  a  short  time  and  Miss  JellifTe  put  out 
her  hand  in  her  frank  and  friendly  way.  I  must 
say  she  is  a  girl  in  many  thousands. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  237 

And  now  I  wonder  why  I  am  writing  all  this. 
My  diary,  begun  in  self-defence  at  a  time  when 
I  expected  to  spend  so  dreary  a  time  that  an 
addled  and  rusted  brain  would  result  unless  I 
sought  hard  to  keep  it  employed,  scarcely  has 
an  excuse  for  being,  now.  The  Jellifies  and  the 
Barnetts,  with  the  good  people  of  the  Cove,  are 
surely  enough  to  keep  a  man  interested  in  the 
world  about  him.  It  has  simply  become  a  silly 
habit,  this  jotting  down  of  idle  words. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Dearest  Aunt  Jennie: 

I  am  writing  again  so  soon  because  I  don't 
think  I  can  sleep,  to-night.  I  know  that  some 
people  can't  possibly  slumber  off  when  they  are 
over-tired.  That  must  be  the  matter  with  me, 
though  I  never  realized  it. 

We  had  no  more  hunting  after  we  killed  that 
caribou.  That  night  we  camped,  and  I  heard 
stories,  from  two  poor,  humble  men,  that  made 
my  head  just  whirl,  for  they  were  really  Odysseys, 
or  sagas,  or  any  of  the  big  tales  one  ever  heard  of. 
It  would  seem,  Aunt  Jennie,  dear,  as  if  the  world 
is  not  at  all  the  prosy  thing  some  people  take  it 
to  be.  I  suppose  that  the  great  knights  and  war- 
riors are  altogether  out  of  it  now,  but  I  find  that 
it  is  running  over  with  men  one  usually  never 
hears  of,  who  accomplish  tremendous  things  with- 

238 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  239 

out  the  slightest  accompaniment  of  drums  or 
clarions. 

We  started  back  after  a  night  during  which  I 
slept  like  a  dead  thing,  but  naturally  I  was  the 
most  alive  girl  you  ever  saw  when  I  awoke.  The 
men  went  away  to  where  we  had  left  the  dead 
stag  and  returned  with  big  haunches  and  other 
butcher-shop  things,  which  they  packed  up  in 
huge  loads.  It  appears  that  my  lucky  shot  has 
contributed  considerably  to  the  provisionment  of 
Sweetapple  Cove. 

By  the  way,  this  place,  which  I  once  rather 
despised,  looked  most  attractive  when  we  came 
down  towards  it  from  the  hills.  I  could  see  the 
beautiful,  white  Snowbird,  at  anchor,  looking  very 
small,  and  the  sunlight  played  on  the  brass  bin- 
nacle which  shone  like  a  burning  light.  Near  it, 
very  lowly  and  humble,  rode  the  poor  little  fish- 
ing smacks  that  are  far  more  important  to  the 
world's  welfare  than  our  expensive  plaything. 
The  crop  of  drying  cod  was  spread  out  on  the 
flakes,  as  usual,  and  tiny  specks  of  women  and 
children  were  bending  over  them,  turning  the 
fish,  piling  them  up,  bearing  some  of  them  away 


240  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

on  hand-barrows,  and  bringing  fresh  loads  to 
scatter  in  the  sun. 

When  we  reached  the  house  we  found  Daddy 
lying  on  the  steamer  chair.  He  was  engaged  in 
deep  converse  with  our  skipper,  who  left  at  once. 
The  doctor  only  remained  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  Susie  appeared,  her  rubicund  face  framed  in 
the  mighty  antlers  of  my  quarry.  Daddy 
laughed  heartily. 

"The  two  Dianas  of  Sweetapple  Cove!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "My  dear,  you  ought  to  bear  the  bow 
and  quiver  and  to  sport  the  crescent  on  your 
queenly  brow.  Now  tell  me  all  about  it !  How 
are  you,  and  what  kind  of  a  time  have  you  had? 
I  need  not  ask  about  the  sport  for  you  have 
brought  the  evidence  with  you.  Isn't  it  a  won- 
derful head1?  I  call  it  rather  cruel  to  be  parading 
such  things  before  a  poor  cripple." 

"I'm  sure  glad  enough  ter  get  rid  o'  he,"  quoth 
Susie,  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "It  lugs  fair  clumsy. 
I'll  be  goin'  over  ter  Sammy's  house  now.  He've 
got  the  tender! ines  in  th'  pack  of  he  and  ter-morrer 
ye's  goin'  ter  feed  on  something  worth  bitin' 
inter.  Ef  yer  doesn't  say  so  I'll  be  awful  fooled. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

And  yer  better  shift  yer  stockin's  right  now, 
ma'am,  'cause  walkin'  all  day  in  the  mash  is 
bound  ter  soak  yer  feet  spite  o'  good  boots.  I'll 
be  back  in  a  minnut." 

The  good  creature  dashed  away  on  her  errand, 
and  we  were  left  to  tell  our  tales. 

"It  was  perfectly  splendid,  Daddy,"  I  told  him. 
"I  hope  they  have  taken  good  care  of  you  and 
you  were  a  dear  to  let  me  go.  I  have  had  such 
a  wonderful  time!" 

"I  am  delighted,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "but  now 
you  had  better  run  away  and  follow  Susie's  ad- 
vice." 

"Just  a  moment,  Daddy,"  I  pleaded.  "I  have 
had  wet  feet  for  two  days  and  a  minute  more 
won't  hurt  me.  Indeed  I  killed  the  big  caribou, 
and  Dr.  Grant  was  ever  so  kind,  as  he  always  is. 
He  said  he  would  try  to  come  in  for  supper. 
Oh !  You  ought  to  have  seen  that  big  stag,  and 
how  proudly  he  stepped  out  into  that  brook,  all 
alert,  and  how  he  started  to  run.  And  then  I 
shot,  and  the  doctor  found  him  for  me.  It  was 
wonderful !" 

"That  doctor  is  a  fine  fellow,"  said  Dad. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Of  course  I  agreed  with  him.  It  is  quite  amaz- 
ing how  Daddy  has  taken  to  Dr.  Grant,  but  then 
I  don't  see  how  one  could  help  it.  The  doctor 
is  a  very  quiet  man,  excepting  when  he  gets  en- 
thusiastic or  mad  about  things,  and  one  thinks  at 
first  that  he  is  rather  distant  in  his  manner.  But 
when  you  know  him  much  better  he  comes  right 
out  and  shows  just  as  much  red  blood  as  those 
boys  at  home.  I  wonder  why  he  keeps  on  living 
at  Sweetapple  Cove? 

So  I  went  off  to  change  my  shoes  and  stockings, 
which  were  quite  soaked  through,  and  then  I  sat 
again  with  Daddy  and  told  him  a  lot  more  about 
our  trip.  I  wish  I  could  have  explained  every- 
thing to  him,  but  of  course  I  couldn't  make  him 
see  the  color  of  those  far-away  hills  and  the  per- 
fect beauty  of  those  great  marshes.  I  told  him 
all  about  the  camp  by  the  little  lake,  and  the 
winding  distant  river,  and  the  cries  of  the  ptarmi- 
gans and  the  loons,  and  the  finding  of  the  stag. 

"Helen  dear,"  said  Daddy,  who  had  been 
looking  at  me  in  that  keen  way  of  his,  "I  don't 
think  I  ever  saw  you  so  enthusiastic  before. 
Your  mind  has  been  fully  opened  to  the  charm 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  243 

of  the  wilderness,  and  that  is  something  that  city 
people  seldom  understand.  You  were  never  so 
earnest  before.  What  is  it*?  Are  you  develop- 
ing new  traits'?" 

Of  course  I  laughed  at  this,  and  yet  it  seemed 
to  me  also  as  if  something  were  changed.  I 
didn't  quite  know  what  Daddy  meant,  because  it 
is  sometimes  difficult  to  know  whether  he  is  jest- 
ing or  in  earnest.  He  once  told  me  that  this  was 
a  rather  good  business  asset. 

"Well,  Daddy,"  I  finally  said.  "I  am  afraid 
you  will  have  to  take  me  away,  or  I  shall  be  fall- 
ing so  much  in  love  with  Sweetapple  Cove  that  I 
will  never  want  to  leave  it  again." 

"We  will  leave  to-morrow,  if  you  want  to," 
he  said,  in  a  rather  abrupt  way. 

Do  you  know,  Aunt  Jennie,  that  when  he  said 
that  I  just  gasped  a  little.  It  suddenly  seemed 
so  strange  that  we  would  have  to  go  away  soon, 
and  that  I  might  never  see  Sweetapple  Cove 
again,  and  those  dear  Barnetts,  and  all  the  people, 
for  the  whole  lot  of  them  appear  to  have  a  way 
of  stealing  into  one's  heart. 

"I  don't  really  want  to  go  at  once,  Daddy," 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

I  told  him.  "It  will  take  a  few  days  to  get  used 
to  the  idea,  and  to  get  everything  ready.  And 
Dr.  Grant  says  that  very  soon  you  will  be  able 
to  walk  without  a  cane.  Do  let  us  put  it  off  for 
another  week." 

Daddy  smiled  vaguely,  and  finally  nodded  his 
consent.  He  is  always  so  good  about  trying  to 
please  me.  So  I  went  and  got  my  knitting  and 
sat  down  at  the  foot  of  the  big  chair. 

"I'm  afraid  I'll  never  finish  it  before  we  leave," 
I  said,  "and  I  doubt  whether  I  will  ever  quite 
solve  the  mystery  of  turning  heels." 

"That's  too  bad,"  said  Daddy.  "I  expected  to 
wear  those  things  in  Virginia  this  fall,  after  quail, 
or  on  the  Chesapeake  when  the  canvas-backs  are 
flying." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  buy  some, 
Daddy,"  I  answered. 

So  I  sat  beside  him,  at  his  feet,  and  I  think  my 
mood  had  changed  a  little.  Perhaps  it  was 
fatigue,  which  I  didn't  really  feel.  I  suppose 
that  people  can  have  things  the  matter  with  them 
without  knowing  anything  about  it.  Daddy's 
dear  old  hand  rested  for  a  moment  on  my  head, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  245 

and  I  had  to  stop  knitting.  I  don't  think  I  ever 
felt  so  queerly  before,  and  I  had  to  look  over 
Sweetapple  Cove  and  follow  the  flight  of  the 
gulls,  until  the  shadows  grew  quite  long  and  the 
clouds  became  tinted  with  rose,  and  Daddy  asked 
me  to  get  him  a  cigar,  and  I  was  glad  he  inter- 
rupted my  silly  thoughts.  I  must  have  been 
really  very  tired. 

I  could  only  write  a  little  while,  last  night. 
We  had  some  caribou  steak  which  Daddy  became 
quite  enthusiastic  over,  but  I  didn't  feel  hungry, 
and  I  went  to  bed  early,  but  somehow  I  slept 
poorly.  It  is  funny  that  one  can  be  tired  for 
several  days  at  a  time.  And  to-day,  Aunt 
Jennie,  some  queer  things  have  happened,  and 
the  life  that  has  so  often  felt  like  dreams  has 
become  very  serious,  and  I  have  seen  some  of  the 
inner  working  of  events  such  as  make  one  feel 
that  existence  has  cruel  sides  to  it. 

All  this  morning  I  dawdled  about  the  house. 
I  had  expected  Dr.  Grant  to  call  and  see  Daddy, 
but  he  had  been  sent  for,  a  short  distance  away, 
in  the  boat. 


246  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Rather  late  this  afternoon  he  returned,  and  I 
strolled  over  towards  the  cove  when  I  saw  the  tiny 
schooner  come  in.  It  is  a  poor  enough  little  ship, 
but  it  is  wonderful  to  think  how  it  bears  with  it 
such  comfort  and  help  to  so  many  suffering  peo- 
ple. 

I  was  within  a  few  yards  of  him,  and  he  was 
lifting  his  cap  when  a  fisherman  rushed  up  to 
him. 

"Ye' re  wanted  ter  Atkins',"  said  the  man. 
"They  is  a  child  there  as  is  awful  sick.  They 
brung  'un  over  from  Edward's  Bay,  this  mornin', 
an'  th'  mother  she  be  prayin'  fer  ye  to  come." 

"All  right,"  he  answered.  "Sammy,  bring  my 
bag  up  with  you  and  I'll  hurry  up  at  once." 

He  only  smiled  at  me,  in  his  pleasant  way,  for 
he  rushed  by  me,  running  up  the  rough  path  in 
great  strides,  and  of  course  I  could  only  go  back 
to  our  house,  where  I  sat  with  Daddy  on  the 
porch. 

From  where  I  sat  I  could  see  Atkins'  house.  It 
is  only  a  little  way  from  us,  up  the  hill.  There 
were  a  number  of  people  assembled  in  front  of  it, 
because  whenever  any  one  is  hurt  or  very  ill  they 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  247 

are  apt  to  gather  around,  as  people  do  sometimes 
in  New  York  before  a  house  where  an  ambulance 
has  stopped.  Then  I  saw  the  doctor  sprinting 
out  towards  Sammy's  house,  whence  he  returned 
carrying  another  bag.  Of  course  I  have  several 
times  helped  him  a  little,  in  the  last  month,  when 
Mrs.  Barnett  didn't  get  in  ahead  of  me,  so  I  rose. 

"I  am  going  up  to  Atkins',"  I  told  Dad.  "I 
wonder  what  is  the  matter.  I  shall  only  be 
gone  a  few  minutes." 

So  I  ran  away,  bare-headed,  and  rushed  to  the 
place,  but  before  I  reached  it  Mrs.  Barnett  ar- 
rived there,  all  out  of  breath. 

When  I  passed  through  the  waiting  people  I 
heard  Dr.  Grant's  voice,  and  he  spoke  very 
angrily.  I  had  never  thought  before  that  he 
could  get  quite  so  mad.  There  was  a  swarm  of 
women  in  the  house,  some  of  them  with  babies  in 
their  arms,  and  a  few  children,  among  whom  was 
Frenchy's  little  boy,  had  also  slipped  in. 

"Get  out  of  here!"  he  was  shouting,  roughly. 
"All  of  you  but  the  child's  mother  and  Mrs. 
Atkins.  Haven't  I  told  you  it  is  dangerous"? 
Do  you  want  to  spread  this  thing  about  and  kill 


248  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

off  all  your  children?  And  you,  Mrs.  Barnett, 
must  give  the  example.  I  won't  have  you  run- 
ning chances  with  those  babies  of  yours.  Do  get 
out,  like  a  dear  woman,  and  chevy  these  other 
ones  out  with  you." 

He  was  bustling  them  all  out  like  a  lot  of 
hens,  in  his  effective,  energetic  way,  and  then  he 
saw  me. 

"I  want  you  to  get  out  too,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  he 
ordered  me.  "This  is  a  bad  case  of  diphtheria. 
The  child  is  choking  and  I  must  relieve  it  at 
once." 

I  took  a  few  steps  back,  rather  resentfully,  be- 
cause I  had  never  been  spoken  to  in  that  way  be- 
fore, and  I  thought  it  very  rude  of  him,  but  I  did 
not  leave  the  place.  The  doctor  was  very  busy 
with  some  instruments  and  perhaps  had  forgotten 
my  presence. 

He  made  the  woman  sit  on  a  stool,  with  the 
little  girl  wrapped  in  a  sheet  and  sitting  on  her 
lap.  I  saw  him  take  up  a  shiny  instrument, 
which  he  fastened  in  the  baby's  mouth,  notwith- 
standing her  struggles. 

"Now  hold  her  firmly,"  he  ordered,  "and  you, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Mrs.  Atkins,  get  behind  her  and  take  her  head. 
Hold  it  steady,  just  this  way.  Never  mind  her 
crying." 

But  the  little  one  wrenched  herself  away  from 
the  woman's  grasp.  The  breath  entered  its  lungs 
with  an  awful  long  hoarse  sound  and  the  poor 
little  lips  were  very  blue. 

"For  God's  sake,  hold  her  better,"  he  cried 
again. 

"I'm  all  of  a  tremble,"  said  Mrs.  Atkins,  weep- 
ing. "She's  sure  goin'  ter  die.  I  kin  never  hold 
her,  she  do  be  fightin'  me  so." 

Of  course  there  was  only  one  thing  to  do.  I 
ran  out  of  the  corner  to  which  I  had  retreated  and 
pushed  the  foolish  woman  away  and  seized  the 
baby's  head  so  that  it  could  not  move. 

Dr.  Grant  stared  at  me,  shaking  his  head,  but 
I  suppose  I  looked  at  him  defiantly,  for  I  was 
really  angry  with  him. 

"This  is  all  wrong,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  he  said. 
"You  should  not  expose  yourself  to  this  infec- 
tion." 

He  spoke  so  quietly  that  I  became  rather 
sorry  I  had  been  provoked  at  him,  but  he  paid 


250  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

no  more  heed  to  me.  Once  he  placed  a  hand  on 
one  of  mine,  to  show  me  exactly  how  to  hold  the 
head,  and  then  he  took  a  long  handle  to  which 
something  was  fastened  at  right  angles.  The 
child's  mouth  was  widely  opened  by  the  gag  he 
had  inserted,  and  his  left  finger  went  swiftly 
down  into  the  child's  throat  and  the  instrument, 
pushed  by  his  right  hand,  followed,  incredibly 
quick.  There  was  just  a  rapid  motion,  I  heard 
the  release  of  a  catch,  and  then,  suddenly,  there 
was  a  terrifying  attack  of  violent  coughing.  But 
in  a  moment  this  ceased,  the  child  lay  back 
quietly  in  her  mother's  arms,  the  color  began 
to  return  to  her  lips,  and  she  was  breathing 
quietly.  Then  we  watched,  in  silence,  and 
finally  the  little  head  turned  to  one  side  and  the 
baby  closed  her  eyes,  while  the  poor  woman's  tears 
streamed  down  and  even  fell  on  the  tiny  face. 

"She  is  all  right  for  the  time  being,"  said  Dr. 
Grant,  in  that  quiet  voice  of  his,  which  I  have 
heard  change  so  quickly.  "If  she  can  only  re- 
sist until  the  antitoxine  acts  upon  her  we  may  pull 
her  through.  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you,  Miss 
Jelliffe.  I  am  afraid  your  father  will  scold  us 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  251 

both  for  taking  such  chances  with  your  health." 

But  by  this  time  my  eyes  were  full  of  tears 
also,  I  don't  know  why.  I  was  unsteady  on  my 
feet  and  held  on  to  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"I  never  saw  anything  like  this  before,"  I 
said.  "I  didn't  quite  realize  that  it  ever  hap- 
pened. The  poor  little  thing  was  dying,  and 
you  did  it  all  so  quickly!  That  thing  went  in 
like  a  flash,  and  then  she  coughed  so  and  I  thought 
she  was  lost.  And  now  she  sleeps,  and  I  am  sure 
you  have  saved  her,  and  she  must  get  well. 
How  dreadful  it  was,  at  first,  and  how  wonder- 
fully beautiful  it  is  to  be  able  to  do  such  things ! 
I  am  so  glad !" 

Wasn't  it  silly  of  me  to  get  so  excited,  Aunt 
Jennie.  But  I  suppose  one  can't  understand  such 
happenings  until  one  has  witnessed  them.  I 
know  that  I  had  taken  the  doctor's  arm,  without 
realizing  what  I  was  doing,  and  found  myself 
patting  it,  stupidly,  like  a  silly,  hysterical  thing. 

His  face  was  very  serious,  just  then,  and  he 
looked  at  me  as  if  he  had  been  studying  another 
patient.  Then  came  that  little  smile  of  his,  very 
kindly,  which  made  me  feel  better. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"I  think  you  had  better  go  now,  Miss  Jelliffe," 
he  advised.  "I  beg  you  not  to  expose  yourself 
further.  It  is  a  duty  you  owe  your  good  old 
father  and  any  one  who  cares  for  you." 

Then  I  was  myself  again.  The  excitement  of 
those  tense  moments  had  passed  away  and  I  knew 
I  had  been  a  little  foolish  and  that  he  spoke  ever 
so  gently. 

"I  will  go  since  you  wish  me  to,"  I  answered. 
"But  I  am  ever  so  glad  that  I  was  able  to  help 
you.  You  will  come  to  supper,  won't  you?" 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  excuse  me,"  he 
said.  "I  can  hardly  do  so  now,  for  I  must  remain 
here  and  watch  this  child  for  some  time.  You 
will  please  change  all  your  clothing  and  have 
it  hung  out  on  the  line,  and  you  will  gargle 
your  throat  with  something  I  will  send  you.  I'll 
call  to-morrow  and  see  your  father,  and  give  you 
the  latest  news  of  this  little  patient." 

"I  didn't  know  that  you  ever  got  so  angry,"  I 
said,  now  prompted  by  some  spirit  of  mischief. 
"You  were  in  a  dreadful  temper  when  I  came  in." 

"Of  course  I  was,"  he  readily  admitted.  "But 
do  you  realize  that  this  is  the  continuation  of  an 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  253 

old  story.  This  woman  was  in  St.  John's  last 
week,  with  the  child,  and  I  suppose  they  may 
have  brought  the  disease  from  there.  Then  the 
child  became  ill,  the  night  before  last,  and  she 
waits  until  this  morning  to  bring  it  over  to  me. 
When  she  reaches  here  she  finds  me  away,  but  of 
course  every  woman  in  the  place  strolls  in,  with 
children  in  arms,  to  look  on  and  give  advice. 
We  may  be  in  for  a  fine  epidemic.  I  shall  have 
to  send  to  St.  John's  at  once  for  a  new  supply  of 
antitoxine.  I  have  only  a  little,  and  it  is  not 
very  fresh.  Atkins  is  away  with  his  schooner  but 
he  is  expected  to-morrow.  I  hope  he  turns  up. 
Thank  you  ever  so  much,  Miss  Jelliife.  Now 
please  run  away  and  follow  my  directions." 

So  I  left  him  and  returned  to  the  house  and 
obeyed  his  orders.  We  soon  had  supper,  but 
when  I  told  Daddy  all  about  it,  it  was  his  turn  to 
be  angry. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  he  said,  "but  after  all 
he  could  have  found  some  one  else  to  help  him 
and  you  had  no  business  to  disobey.  When  the 
time  comes  for  you  to  have  babies  of  your  own 
you  can  risk  your  life  for  them  as  much  as  you 


254  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

please,  but  you  have  no  right  to  run  into  danger 
now.  You  are  my  only  child,  and  I  have  no 
one  else  to  love  since  your  poor  mother  died. 
Please  don't  do  such  things  again.  Grant  was 
perfectly  right  in  trying  to  chase  you  away.  He 
should  have  taken  a  stick  to  you." 

Daddy's  ruffled  tempers  are  never  proof  against 
my  method  of  smoothing  the  raging  seas.  My 
arm  around  his  neck  and  a  kiss  will  make  him  eat 
out  of  my  hand,  as  Harry  Lawrence  puts  it. 
Naturally  he  succumbed  again  and  in  a  minute 
was  just  as  nice  as  ever. 

We  had  only  just  finished  our  supper  when 
Frenchy  came  in,  leading  his  little  boy  by  the 
hand.  He  bore  a  letter  which  he  gravely  handed 
to  Daddy  who,  as  usual,  had  to  look  into  three 
or  four  pockets  before  he  found  his  glasses.  Then 
he  read,  and  his  face  became  serious,  as  it  always 
does  when  he  takes  sudden  decisions. 

"Yves,"  he  said,  "will  you  oblige  me  by  going 
down  to  the  cove  at  once  and  hailing  the 
schooner.  I  want  my  captain  to  come  over 
here." 

Frenchy  departed,  after  saluting  as  usual,  his 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  255 

little   fellow   trotting   beside   him,    and   Daddy, 
without  a  word,  handed  the  letter  to  me.     I  read 

as  follows: 

i 

Dear  Mr.  Jelliffe: 

I  had  intended  to  see  you  to-morrow  morning, 
and  expect  to  do  so,  but  I  believe  it  might  be 
best  for  you  to  obtain  my  advice  at  once.  Miss 
Jelliffe  has  doubtless  told  you  how  she  helped  me 
with  a  case  of  diphtheria,  although  I  am  sure  she 
omitted  to  say  how  brave  and  helpful  she  was. 
The  danger  to  her  is  comparatively  slight,  I  am 
sure,  yet  we  must  not  forget  that  such  a  danger 
exists.  If  you  were  to  start  to-morrow  morning 
you  could  be  in  St.  John's  before  night.  From 
there  two  days  would  find  you  in  Halifax  and  two 
more  in  New  York,  so  that  you  would  be  always 
near  good  care  and  advice. 

With  a  little  care  and  prudence  in  regard  to 
your  leg  I  am  sure  that  you  can  reach  home  quite 
safely. 

With  kindest  regards, 
Very  sincerely  yours, 

JOHN  GRANT. 


256  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

I  stared  at  Daddy,  hardly  knowing  what  to 
say. 

"That  boy  has  a  lot  of  good  sound  horse- 
sense!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  am  iust  going  to  fol- 

m 

low  his  advice.  Bring  me  my  check-book.  I 
am  going  to  make  out  something  for  that  little 
parson.  He  needs  a  place  to  give  the  folks  what 
he  calls  readings,  and  other  things.  He  told 
me  that  two-fifty  would  give  him  unutterable 
joy.  I'll  make  it  five  hundred  so  that  he  can 
shout.  Now  in  regard  to  Dr.  Grant  .  .  ." 

"Are  we  really  going  to-morrow,  Daddy*?"  I 
interrupted. 

"You  bet  we  are  going  to-morrow,  always  pro- 
viding that  yacht  of  ours  is  ready.  I  gave  orders 
yesterday  to  have  something  done  and  ..." 

But  I  didn't  listen  any  more.  I  went  to  the 
window  and  drew  aside  the  little  curtain.  Down 
below,  in  the  cove,  I  could  see  the  Snowbird's 
anchor  light,  gleaming  brilliantly.  The  windows 
of  some  of  the  houses  shed  a  sickly  pale  radiance, 
but  beyond  this  everything  was  in  darkness,  with 
just  the  faintest  suggestion  of  enormous  masses 
representing  the  jagged  cliffs.  There  was  not  a 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  257 

single  star  in  the  heavens,  and  all  at  once  every- 
thing seemed  to  be  plunged  in  desolation.  It  felt 
as  when  one  awakes  in  the  darkness  from  some 
beautiful  dream.  I  knew  then  that  I  would  be 
actually  home-sick  for  Sweetapple  Cove  when  I 
returned  to  New  York. 

Please  don't  laugh  at  me,  Aunt  Jennie  dear, 
you  know  I  have  had  no  one  but  you  to  confide 
in  since  I  have  grown  out  of  short  skirts.  Per- 
haps it  was  this  thing  I  saw  in  Atkins'  house  that 
has  upset  me  so,  and  I  suppose  that  my  life  has 
always  been  too  easy,  and  that  I  have  not  been 
prepared  to  meet  some  of  the  grim  horrors  it  can 
reveal  to  one. 

I  could  not  think  of  leaving  without  saying 
good-by  to  Mrs.  Barnett.  My  hand  shook  as  I 
pushed  a  hatpin  through  my  cap.  Then  I  told 
Daddy  where  I  was  going  and  ran  out  into  the 
darkness. 

When  I  reached  the  poor  little  house  they  in- 
sist on  calling  the  rectory  the  dear  woman  opened 
her  arms  to  greet  me,  and  I  saw  that  her  beautiful 
eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"What  is  the  matter,  dear4?"  I  asked. 


258  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"I  was  a  coward  to-day,"  she  cried.  "Such  an 
awful  coward !  I  had  no  business  to  leave  when 
Dr.  Grant  told  me  to.  I  should  have  stayed 
and  helped.  But  when  he  spoke  of  diphtheria 
I  couldn't  help  it  and  thought  of  my  little 
chaps.  I  have  already  seen  that  dreadful  thing 
come  and  sweep  little  lives  away,  just  in  a  day 
or  two.  It  took  the  one  we  buried  on  the  other 
side  of  the  cove,  and  we  saw  it  suffocating,  help- 
less to  aid.  And  that's  why  I  ran  out,  terror- 
stricken.  But  I  hear  that  you  held  the  baby  for 
him.  You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  have  babies 
of  your  own,  and  were  not  afraid.  It  is  dread- 
ful, you  know,  that  fear  that  comes  in  a  mother's 
heart!" 

She  looked  quite  weak  when  she  sat  down,  in 
a  poor,  worn,  upholstered  chair  that  was  among 
the  things  they  brought  from  England,  and  I  sat 
on  the  arm  of  it,  beside  her. 

"I  have  changed  all  my  clothes,"  I  told  her, 
"and  I  don't  think  I'm  dangerous.  Now  Daddy 
insists  that  we  must  leave  to-morrow,  and  I'm 
just  broken-hearted  about  it.  Dr.  Grant  wrote 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  259 

him  that  it  would  be  better  for  us  to  leave,  but 
I  don't  want  to  go." 

"Did  the  doctor  write  that1?"  she  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  because  there  might  be  danger  in  my 
staying  longer.  Why  can't  I  share  it  with  all 
the  others  who  will  have  to  stay  here?  I  shall 
never  forgive  him!" 

I  suppose  that  we  were  both  rather  excited,  and 
I  know  I  had  to  dab  my  eyes  with  my  handker- 
chief. Then  Mrs.  Barnett  forgot  all  about  her 
own  worries,  for  she  was  patting  me  on  the  arm, 
looking  at  me  intently  all  the  time,  just  as  Daddy 
has  been  doing,  in  a  queer  way  that  I  can't  un- 
derstand. 

"I  daresay  it  will  be  best  for  both  of  you," 
she  said,  in  that  sweetest  voice  of  hers. 

"Yes,  I  think  Daddy  wants  to  get  back,"  I 
said,  and  she  stared  at  me  again,  as  I  rose  and 
bade  her  good-by. 

"Don't  say  it  yet,  dear,"  she  told  me,  "I  will 
certainly  come  down  to  see  you  off  in  the  morn- 
ing. It  has  been  so  delightful  to  have  had  you 
here  all  these  weeks,  and  I  shall  miss  you  dread- 


260  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

fully  when  you  are  gone.  I  can  hardly  bear  to 
think  of  it." 

So  I  kissed  her  and  had  to  tear  myself  away. 
Like  a  pair  of  silly  women  we  were  on  the  verge 
of  tears  once  more,  and  there  was  nothing  left 
for  me  to  do  but  to  run. 

It  was  perhaps  some  unusual  effect  of  the  night 
air,  but  I  was  quite  husky  when  I  spoke  to  Daddy 
again. 

"You  will  be  glad  to  get  back,  won't  you, 
Daddy?"  I  asked  him.  "It  will  be  so  nice  for 
you  to  go  to  the  club  again,  and  see  all  your  old 
friends." 

He  looked  at  me,  and  only  nodded  in  a  non- 
committal way. 

"I  will  leave  you  now,"  I  said.  "There  is  a 
lot  of  packing  to  do,  and  that  poor  silly  Susie  is 
perfectly  useless,  since  she  heard  we  were  going. 
She  is  sitting  on  a  stool  in  the  kitchen  and  weep- 
ing herself  into  a  fit.  Her  nose  is  the  reddest 
thing  you  ever  saw.  But  you  and  I  are  old 
travelers,  aren't  we,  and  used  to  quick  changes'? 
You  remember,  in  Europe,  how  we  used  to  get  to 
little  towns  and  decide  in  a  moment  whether  we 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  261 

would  stay  or  not,  when  we  were  tired  of  all 
those  old  museums  and  cathedrals'?" 

But  Daddy  only  patted  my  hand,  and  I  have 
decided  that  he  is  a  wonderfully  clever  man.  I 
am  sure  he  understood  that  I  was  just  forcing  my- 
self to  talk,  and  that  he  could  say  nothing  that 
would  make  me  feel  better. 

Then  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
Stefansson  came  in  with  one  of  his  long  faces. 

"Good  evening,"  said  Daddy.  "Have  a 
cigar1?  The  box  is  there  on  the  table.  I  have 
good  news  for  you,  since  I  know  you  don't  enjoy 
this  place  much.  Too  far  from  Long  Island 
Sound,  isn't  it1?  I  want  to  sail  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 

Our  skipper's  long  Swedish  face  lengthened 
out  a  bit  more,  and  he  looked  a  very  picture  of 
distress. 

"But  you  told  me  yesterday  that  you  were 
going  to  stay  at  least  another  week,  Mr.  Jelliffe," 
he  objected.  "So  to-day  when  the  engineer  he 
tells  me  about  bearings  needing  new  packing,  and 
about  a  connecting  rod  being  a  bit  loose,  I  told 
him  to  get  busy." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  you  fellows  were  do- 
ing all  the  time  in  St.  John's1?"  asked  Daddy, 
angrily. 

"Engines  always  need  looking  after,  Mr. 
Jelliffe,"  replied  the  skipper  in  an  injured  tone 
that  was  not  particularly  convincing.  "Of 
course  I  can  make  him  work  all  night,  and  to- 
morrow, with  his  helper,  so  that  maybe  we  can 
start  day  after  to-morrow  early.  Everything  is 
all  apart  now.  If  you  say  so  we  can  start  under 
sail,  but  I  know  you  don't  like  bucking  against 
contrary  winds  without  a  bit  of  steam  to  help,  and 
this  is  a  forsaken  coast  to  be  knocking  about,  Mr. 
Jelliffe,  and  I'll  be  glad  to  get  away  from  it." 

"Well,  I  suppose  that  a  day  or  so  won't  make 
much  difference,"  said  Daddy.  "How's  your 
coal?' 

"Plenty  coal,  sir." 

"All  right,  get  those  fellows  at  work  in  the 
engine  room,  Stefansson.  They  haven't  had 
much  to  do  of  late." 

Our  skipper  departed  and  I  was  so  happy  that 
I  wanted  to  dance.  In  the  kitchen  Susie  was 
washing  dishes  and  assisting  her  work  by  intoning 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  263 

the  most  doleful  hymn.  I  turned  up  the  lamp  a 
little,  and  things  seemed  ever  so  much  more  cheer- 
ful. 

So  I  suppose  that  I  have  been  ever  so  foolish. 
Just  now  I  can  hear  Daddy  and  Mr.  Barnett  say- 
ing good  night,  and  I  know  that  they  have  been 
fighting  tooth  and  nail  over  that  chess  board. 
And  I  hear  Mr.  Barnett  thanking  Daddy,  in  a 
voice  that  is  all  choked  up  with  emotion.  I  am 
so  glad  to  think  the  dear  little  man  is  happy. 
Isn't  it  too  bad,  Aunt  Jennie,  that  we  can't  all  be 
happy  all  the  time1? 

Your  loving 

HELEN. 


CHAPTER  XV 

[From  John  Grant's  Diary 

HERE  I  am  writing  again,  just  for  the  purpose 
of  trying  to  keep  awake.  A  fellow  in  my  pro- 
fession, in  such  places  as  this,  is  much  like  a 
billiard  ball  that  finds  itself  shot  into  all  sorts  of 
corners,  without  the  slightest  ordering  from  any 
consciousness  of  its  own.  I  left  that  child  at 
Atkins'  doing  fairly  well,  and  have  once  more 
been  compelled  to  make  one  of  those  rather  har- 
rowing choices  I  dread.  I  had  either  to  abandon 
that  child,  though  its  mother  is  fairly  intelligent 
and  seems  to  understand  my  instructions,  for- 
tunately, or  to  refuse  to  answer  this  call,  where 
another  man  with  a  large  family  is  lying  at  the 
point  of  death. 

It  seems  strange  that  I  shall  probably  never  see 
Miss  Jelliffe  again.  The  yacht  has  been  delayed 
for  several  days,  and  they  did  not  start  as  they 
expected  to.  But  when  I  return  I  have  no  doubt 

264 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  265 

that  the  Snowbird  will  be  gone,  and  with  it  two 
charming  people  who  will  be  but  delightful 
memories.  I  had  thought  to  show  Dora  how  will- 
ing I  was  to  do  what  she  calls  a  man's  work,  and 
expected  to  accomplish  it  at  the  cost  not  only  of 
hard  toil,  which  is  an  easy  enough  thing  to  get 
through  with,  but  also  at  the  price  of  exile  among 
dull  people.  I  have  had  plenty  of  work,  but  for 
the  last  two  months  there  has  not  been  a  stupid 
moment.  The  girl's  bright  intelligence  and  fine 
womanliness,  the  old  gentleman's  kindly  and 
practical  ways,  have  made  my  visits  to  them  ever 
so  pleasant,  and  those  journeys  to  the  barrens  and 
the  river  have  been  delightful. 

And  now  the  Barnetts  will  be  left,  pleasanter 
companions  by  far  than  I  had  any  right  to  expect 
in  this  out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  island.  And 
then  I  always  hope  that  Dora  will  soon  be  coming 
home,  as  she  calls  it,  and  I  will  hasten  away  to 
her,  and  perhaps  plead  with  her  for  the  last  time. 
I  do  hope  she  will  approve  of  the  man's  work; 
perhaps  also  of  the  man! 

I  last  saw  Miss  Helen  the  day  before  yesterday 
morning,  just  before  the  summons  came  for  me 


266  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

to  go  to  Edward's  Bay,  and  she  told  me  she  hoped 
I  would  return  before  her  departure.  She  said  it 
so  kindly  that  I  am  rather  proud  of  having  won 
the  friendship  of  such  a  splendid  girl. 

Here  I  found  a  man  with  pneumonia,  who  has 
still  a  chance.  His  wife  and  children  are  sleep- 
ing on  the  floor,  all  around  me.  Once  more  I  am 
seeking  to  preserve  one  life,  that  others  may  go 
on  too,  and  I  ordered  the  woman  to  take  a  rest, 
for  she  has  been  up  two  nights. 

When  I  last  went  to  the  Jelliffes',  after  chang- 
ing all  my  clothes,  and  taking  all  possible  precau- 
tions, I  told  her  that  the  child  was  better,  and 
that  I  was  under  the  impression  that  the  anti- 
toxine  was  having  a  favorable  effect.  Also  I  in- 
formed her  that  I  was  going  to  start  Atkins  off  to 
St.  John's  for  another  supply  in  case  the  malady 
should  spread,  for  I  only  had  about  enough  left 
for  one  bad  case. 

"I  hope  he  makes  good  time,"  I  said,  "but  of 
course  one  can  never  tell,  though  he's  a  first  rate 
man  and  can  make  his  way  into  the  cove  in 
weather  of  all  kinds,  barring  an  offshore  gale. 
Fog  doesn't  bother  him." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  267 

"You  have  had  a  sleepless  night,"  she  told  me. 
"It  must  have  been  hard  to  keep  awake  after  all 
the  work  you  have  done  in  the  last  few  days." 

I  assured  her  that  I  had  enjoyed  some  sleep, 
having  dozed  off  several  times  on  my  chair.  I 
had  ordered  Mrs.  Atkins,  under  dire  threats,  to 
awaken  me  at  least  every  half  hour,  and  she  had 
obeyed  fairly  well. 

"You  know  that  we  may  perhaps  be  able  to 
leave  to-morrow,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  it  is  best  that  you  should,"  I  told  her. 
"Your  father  is  quite  well  able  to  stand  the  jour- 
ney now.  They  can  easily  warp  the  schooner  up 
to  the  little  dock  so  that  he  may  walk  aboard 
without  trouble.  I  hope  this  wind  may  change 
soon,  for  just  now  it  looks  rather  threatening." 

We  were  walking  away  from  the  house,  in  the 
direction  of  the  cliff  which  forms  one  of  the  iron- 
bound  limits  of  the  cove  and  extends  out  into  the 
open  sea.  Miss  Jelliffe  was  very  silent.  It  is 
easy  to  see  that  she  regrets  the  idea  of  leaving, 
but  now  something  seemed  to  be  oppressing  her. 

"You  don't  know  how  greatly  I  shall  miss  all 
this,"  she  told  me,  in  a  low  voice.  "It  has  been 


268  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

a  simple  existence  full  of  a  charm  that  has  meant 
more  than  all  the  golf  and  autos  and  dancing.  I 
have  regretted  none  of  the  yachting  or  the  New- 
port gayeties.  None  of  those  things  compare  at 
all  with  what  one  finds  in  poor  old  Sweetapple 
Cove,  with  all  its  smell  of  fish,  or  even  its  rains 
and  fogs.  These  only  blot  out  an  outer  world 
that  seems  of  little  interest  now,  and  after  a  while 
the  sun  always  comes  out  again." 

I  walked  by  her  side,  and  after  going  for  a 
short  distance  we  sat  upon  a  rock  and  looked  out 
over  the  ocean,  which  extended  afar,  under  a 
sky  that  was  dark  with  mountainous  masses  of 
piled-up  clouds.  The  great  roll  of  the  sea  struck 
the  foot  of  the  cliffs  rather  slowly,  as  if  perform- 
ing some  solemn  function,  and  the  swash  of  the 
returning  water  was  like  some  strange  dirge. 
The  very  waves  had  lost  their  blueness  and  were 
tinted  with  a  leaden,  muddy  hue. 

"It  looks  as  if  some  awful  storm  were  coming," 
said  Miss  Jelliffe. 

"It  may  pass  away,"  I  answered,  "but  I  don't 
generally  shine  as  a  weather  prophet." 

We   sat   there   for   some   time,    watching   the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  269 

ominous  stirring  of  the  clouds,  that  seemed  like 
an  invading  army  whose  might  would  soon  be 
unleashed  and  burst  out  with  fierce  violence. 
Then,  in  the  distance,  we  saw  a  small  boat.  The 
tan-hued  sails  flapped  idly  and  one  could  see  that 
the  men  were  rowing  hard. 

"They  are  pulling  for  their  lives,"  I  said.  "I 
hope  they  get  in  soon.  It  looks  as  if  they  were 
coming  from  Edward's  Bay.  It  is  likely  enough 
that  it  is  another  call  for  me.  All  the  boats 
belonging  to  the  Cove  are  in,  as  far  as  I  can 
see.  They  all  know  very  well  what  is  com- 
ing." 

"Then  you  will  have  to  rush  away  again !"  she 
exclaimed. 

"It  is  all  in  the  game,"  I  answered.  "One  has 
to  try  to  play  it  according  to  the  rules." 

"Yes,  and  you  try  very  hard,"  she  said. 
"Those  journeys  over  rough  waters,  those  nights 
of  watching,  the  toil  over  hopeless  cases,  the 
meager  reward  when  devoted  care  has  saved.  It 
is  surely  a  wonderful  game,  and  you  play  it 
well." 

I  have  always  been  glad  to  see  the  enthusiasm 


270  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

of  healthy  and  strong  young  womanhood.  The 
girls  of  to-day  like  to  see  a  man's  game  played, 
and  they  surely  know  how  to  help. 

We  continued  to  watch  the  small  boat,  which 
rose  and  fell  to  the  swing  of  the  long  rollers. 
The  wind  was  beginning  to  rise  a  little,  striking 
the  water  with  black  squalls,  and  we  saw  the  lit- 
tle sails  grow  rigid  as  the  boat  careened  and  sped 
towards  us  like  an  affrighted  bird. 

"They  will  make  it  all  right,  thank  goodness," 
I  said. 

After  this  we  strolled  back,  to  find  Susie  sitting 
on  the  little  porch  as  she  mopped  her  face  with 
her  blue  apron. 

"Look  at  this  silly  girl,"  said  Miss  Jelliffe. 
"She  has  been  weeping  off  and  on  like  a  Niobe, 
and  makes  me  feel  like  crying  too.  Among  us 
poor  women  tears  are  dreadfully  contagious 
things,  and  I'm  trying  hard  to  escape  the  infec- 
tion." 

"I  can't  help  it,"  said  the  girl,  showing  a  red 
nose  and  swollen  eyes.  "Sweetapple  Cove  ain't 
a-goin'  ter  be  the  same  place  after  you  folks  goes. 
'Course  I  knows  ye'd  have  no  room  fer  a  girl  like 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  271 

me  over  ter  yer  place  in  Ameriky.  'Tain't  my 
fault  if  we  Newfoundlanders  is  said  ter  be  that 
green  th'  devil  has  to  put  us  in  th'  smoke-house 
ter  dry  afore  we'll  burn.  Ye'd  ought  ter  have 
hustled  me  hard  an'  said  mean  things  ter  me. 
Then  I'd  'a'  been  glad  when  ye  left.  It's  a  sight 
better  ter  say  good  riddance  ter  bad  rubbish  than 
ter  lose  people  one's  fond  of." 

She  was  bravely  trying  to  smile,  and  accused 
herself  of  being  a  silly  fool.  Miss  Jelliffe  put 
her  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder. 

"You  never  said  you  would  like  to  go  with  us, 
Susie,"  she  said.  "I'll  be  only  too  glad  to  take 
you  if  you  want  to  come." 

"Now  don't  be  after  foolin'  me  jest  ter  make 
me  stop  greetin'  like  a  silly  calf!"  exclaimed  Susie. 
"Yer  sure  don't  mean  it,  does  yer*?" 

"Now  I  am  determined  to  take  you  if  I  have 
to  tie  you  up  and  have  you  carried  on  board  by 
the  crew,"  laughed  Miss  Helen,  whereupon  a 
broad  smile  illumined  the  girl's  face. 

"If  I  doesn't  allers  do  what  yer  tells  me  to,"  she 
declared,  "ye  kin  take  me  by  the  scruff  of  me  neck 
an'  ship  me  back  ter  work  on  the  flakes  again. 


272  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Oh,  Lord!  I  got  ter  run  off  an'  tell  the  folks. 
I'll  jest  be  back  in  a  minute." 

She  scampered  up  the  path,  scaring  two  goats 
and  sending  a  hen  flying  over  some  palings  into 
a  cabbage  patch,  while  we  entered  the  house. 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  come  to  say  good-by,  Mr. 
Jelliffe,"  I  said  to  Mr.  Jelliffe.  "I  rather  think 
that  some  one  is  coming  for  me  to  go  to  the  Bay, 
and  I  shall  probably  not  be  back  in  time  to  see 
you  off.  Be  very  prudent  about  using  your  leg 
and  have  some  one  hold  your  arm  when  you  move 
about  the  yacht." 

"Hold  on!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jelliffe.  "First  I 
want  to  thank  you  ever  so  much  for  the  excellent 
care  you  have  taken  of  me,  and  for  your  kindness 
to  Helen.  You  have  been  exceedingly  good  and 
attentive  to  us  both.  And  I  want  to  say  that  I 
think  you  are  doing  fine  work  in  this  jump- 
ing-off  place,  and  it  seems  a  pity  that  a  man  like 
you  should  be  wasted  here.  Now  here's  a  bit  of 
paper  in  this  envelope,  and  you  can  spend  it  on 
codfish  or  codfishermen,  just  as  you  please. 
Thank  you  again  for  my  spliced  leg,  it's  a  fine 
job." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  273 

He  put  out  his  hand,  which  I  shook  heartily. 
Indeed  I  felt  very  sorry  over  this  separation. 
These  people  are  friends  such  as  I  have  never  had 
yet,  and  the  salt  of  the  earth. 

When  I  sought  to  open  the  door  I  was  com- 
pelled to  push  hard  against  the  force  of  the  fierce 
wind  that  had  arisen  during  our  conversation. 
The  rocky  spurs  which  close  in  the  cove  were  now 
a  foaming  mass  over  which  mighty  combers  were 
hurling  themselves,  to  the  shrieking  of  the  gale. 

I  found  Miss  Jelliffe  on  the  porch,  with  locks 
of  her  hair  flying  about  her  pretty  head. 

"You  are  not  going,"  she  cried.  "You  can't 
possibly  go  off  in  such  a  storm." 

"I  can  see  that  no  boat  could  leave  the  cove 
now,"  I  replied,  "but  if  I  should  be  badly  wanted 
I  might  be  able  to  make  my  way  over  there  by 
land." 

"Oh!  I  hope  you  won't  go,"  she  said.  "It 
is  a  terrible  storm." 

Some  men  were  coming  towards  us,  their  oil- 
skins slatting  in  the  wind  that  sought  to  tear  them 
from  their  backs. 

"  'Tis  a  hard  bit  of  a  blow,  sir,"  said  one  of 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

them.  "It's  too  bad,  for  they  is  Dicky  Jones,  as 
has  seven  young  'uns,  and  they  says  he  is  mortial 
sick.  The  woman  o'  he  she  were  bawlin'  ter- 
rible fer  us  to  go  an'  fetch  yer,  an'  we  resked  it, 
but  now  'tain't  no  use,  for  there  ain't  no  boat 
could  ever  get  out  o'  th'  cove  an'  live." 

The  other  man  was  Sammy,  who  nodded 
gravely,  in  confirmation. 

I  looked  at  the  raging  seas  that  were  now  leap- 
ing over  the  little  strait  into  our  cove. 

"I'll  have  to  try  and  get  there  by  land," 
I  said. 

"  'Tis  an  awful  long  ways  around,"  said 
Sammy.  "Not  as  I  says  it  can't  be  done." 

"We's  fair  done  with  th'  long  pull  we's  had," 
said  the  messenger.  "I  mistrust  us  men  couldn't 
do  it." 

"You  will  stay  here  and  rest,"  I  told  him.  "I 
think  I  will  have  to  try  it." 

"You  goin'  now*?"  asked  Sammy. 

"I'll  be  off  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Then  I  goes  wid  yer,  in  course,"  said  the 
sturdy  old  fellow.  "I  might  be  hinderin'  you  a 
bit  with  th'  walkin',  'count  o'  them  long  legs  o' 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  275 

yourn,  but  I  knows  th'  way  an'  ye'll  be  safer  from 
gettin'  strayed." 

So  I  ran  up  to  Atkins',  to  see  once  more  how  the 
child  was  getting  on,  finding  everything  satisfac- 
tory enough.  I  left  some  medicine  and  gave  care- 
ful directions,  after  which  I  returned  to  the  Jel- 
liffes'  house.  Miss  Helen  was  waiting,  wrapped 
in  a  waterproof  coat.  Her  head  was  bare,  and 
she  did  not  appear  to  mind  the  gusts  of  rain  which 
came  down  upon  it,  driven  under  the  porch  by  the 
gale. 

"Good-by,  oh!  good-by!"  she  cried.  "Thank 
you  for  everything  and  God  be  with  you!" 

She  gave  me  a  grip  of  the  hand  that  was  strong 
with  a  nervous  force  one  would  hardly  have 
deemed  her  capable  of,  and  I  left  her  regretfully, 
I  must  say,  for  she  had  become  such  a  comrade 
as  a  man  seldom  meets  with.  Then  Sammy  and 
I  started  on  our  long  walk  over  the  ridges  and  bar- 
rens, striking  well  inland.  We  had  been  gone 
but  a  few  minutes  before  Sweetapple  Cove  was 
blotted  from  our  sight  by  the  pelting  rain  that 
spattered  fiercely  over  our  oilskins. 

And  now  I  am  putting  in  another  long  night. 


276  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

The  storm  still  beats  upon  the  roof  and  the  wind 
is  howling  like  some  unmerciful  beast  unleashed. 
The  Snowbird  surely  could  not  sail  away  to-day, 
for  the  dawning  is  showing  its  first  gleams 
through  the  tiny  window  panes,  and  there  is  no 
sign  of  any  change. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Dearest  Aunt  Jennie: 

Why  does  the  world  sometimes  seem  to  turn 
the  wrong  way,  so  that  everything  becomes  mis- 
erably topsy-turvy"?  I  have  often  had  to  struggle 
to  keep  awake  when  writing  you  these  long  let- 
ters, which  you  say  you  are  so  glad  to  get.  But 
now  I  am  writing  because  I  am  so  dreadfully 
awake  that  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  ever  could  sleep 
again. 

It  is  now  a  week  since  Stefansson  came  up 
to  the  house,  and  the  water  dripping  from  him 
ran  down  and  joined  the  baby  rivers  that  were 
rushing  down  the  little  road  before  our  house. 

"I've  come  for  orders,  Mr.  Jelliffe,"  he  said. 

"Orders!  What  orders'?"  asked  Daddy,  iras- 
cibly. "I'd  like  to  know  what  orders  I  can  give 

277 


278  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

except  to  wait  till  this  fiendish  weather  gets  bet- 
ter. You  don't  expect  to  start  in  such  a  gale,  do 
you?" 

"We  couldn't  make* it  very  well,  sir,  and  that's 
a  fact.  I  don't  even  think  I  could  take  her  out 
of  the  cove.  If  we  could  only  get  her  clear  of  the 
coast  we'd  be  all  right  enough,  but  I  wouldn't  like 
to  take  chances." 

"Who  wants  to  take  chances'?  Do  you  sup- 
pose I'm  so  anxious  to  go  that  I'm  going  to  risk 
all  our  lives?  Come  back  or  send  word  as  soon 
as  you  think  it  safe  to  start.  That's  all  I  want. 
I  suppose  everything  is  all  right  in  the  engine 
room  now." 

Our  skipper  confirmed  this  and  left.  All  day 
the  storm  gathered  greater  fury,  and  has  kept  it 
up  ever  since.  At  times  the  rain  stops,  and  the 
great  black  clouds  race  desperately  across  the 
sky  while  the  world  outside  our  little  cove  is  a 
raging  mass  of  spume  that  becomes  wind-torn  and 
flies  like  huge  snow  flakes  high  up  in  the  air. 
And  then  the  rain  begins  again,  slanting  and 
beating  down  wickedly,  and  I  feel  that  no  such 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  279 

thing  can  ever  have  existed  as  clear  skies  and 
balmy  breezes. 

A  number  of  hours  ago,  I  don't  really  know 
how  many,  I  was  sitting  with  Daddy,  who  looked 
very  disconsolate.  I  am  afraid  that  this  long 
storm  has  got  on  his  nerves,  or  perhaps  the  poor 
dear  is  worrying  about  me.  I  think  he  has  been 
afraid  that  I  might  catch  the  disease  from  that 
sick  child.  And  now  I  am  sure  that  his  worries 
have  increased  ever  so  much,  but  what  can  one 
do  when  it  really  becomes  a  matter  of  life  and 
death  to  go  out  and  help,  to  the  best  of  one's  poor 
abilities'?  How  could  any  one  stand  on  a  river 
bank,  with  a  rope,  however  frail,  in  one's  hands, 
and  obey  even  one's  father  if  he  forbade  you  to 
throw  it  to  a  drowning  child*? 

I  am  afraid  I  have  again  wandered  off,  as  I  so 
often  do  when  I  write  to  you,  Aunt  Jennie. 
Well,  we  were  there,  and  the  lamp  flickered,  and 
the  rain  just  pelted  the  house  so  that  it  looked  as 
if  it  were  trying  to  wash  us  down  into  the  cove. 
But  I  heard  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  listened, 
and  it  came  again.  So  I  went  and  opened  it  to 


280  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

find  Yves,  with  his  long  black  hair  disheveled  and 
his  face  a  picture  of  awful  anxiety.  In  the  ges- 
ture of  his  hands  there  was  pitiful  begging,  and 
his  voice  came  hoarsely  as  he  sought  to  explain  his 
coming. 

I  interrupted  him  and  bade  him  enter. 

"Pardon,"  he  said,  "please  pardon.  Eet  is  de 
leetle  bye.  All  day  I  wait.  I  tink  heem  docteur 
maybe  come  back.  But  heem  no  come.  Maybe 
you  know  about  leetle  byes  very  seek.  You  help 
docteur  once." 

"I  am  afraid  I  know  very  little,  my  poor  Yves," 
I  cried,  shaking  my  head. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him,  Frenchy4?" 
asked  Daddy. 

"Me  not  know,  monsieur,"  he  answered. 
"Heem  now  cry  out  heem  want  la  belle  dame. 
Heem  lofe  de  yong  lady.  Seek  all  day,  de  poor 
leetle  bye,  an'  lie  down  and  cry  so  moch!  An* 
now  heem  terreeble  red  in  ze  face,  an'  so  hot,  an' 
speak  fonny.  An'  heem  don'  want  eat  noding, 
noding  at  all.  So  I  know  mademoiselle  she  help 
fix  heem  leetle  girl,  de  oder  day,  an'  me  tink 
maybe  she  tell  me  what  I  do.  All  de  oder 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  281 

womans  dey  know  noding  at  all,  an'  I  hear  Doc- 
teur  say  oder  day  zey  all  big  fool.  Please  you 
come,  mademoiselle." 

'Til  have  to  go,  Daddy,"  I  cried,  and  caught 
up  my  woollen  cap  and  wrapped  myself  up  in 
my  waterproof. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't,  daughter,"  said  poor 
Daddy.  "I  am  sure  it  must  be  something  catch- 
ing." 

"I'm  so  sorry,  Daddy,  but  I  just  have  to  go. 
I'll  try  to  be  back  soon." 

"But  why  doesn't  he  go  for  Mrs.  Barnett?' 
asked  Dad.  "She  knows  all  about  sick  babies." 

"Oh!  I  don't  want  her  to  be  sent  for.  She 
has  those  dear  little  ones  of  her  own,"  I  said. 

Then  I  kissed  him  quickly  and  ran  out  into 
the  darkness  before  he  could  object  any  further. 
The  wind  just  tore  at  me,  and  I  had  to  seize 
Frenchy's  arm  as  we  splashed  through  the  pud- 
dles, with  heads  bent  low,  leaning  against  the 
storm. 

And  so  we  reached  the  poor  little  shack  Yves 
calls  his  home.  On  the  floor  he  had  placed  some 
pans  that  caught  some  of  the  drippings  from  the 


282  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

leaky  roof,  and  a  piece  of  sail-cloth  was  stretched 
upon  a  homemade  pallet  covered  with  an  old 
caribou  hide,  upon  which  the  poor  little  fellow 
was  lying.  Unable  to  bear  any  heat  he  had  cast 
away  all  his  coverings,  in  the  fever  that  possessed 
him,  and  when  I  heard  him  moan  and  knelt  be- 
side him  he  stretched  out  his  arms  to  me,  and  his 
pleading  face  grew  sweet  with  hope. 

"Heem  too  young  to  be  widout  moder  ven 
seek,"  said  Frenchy,  apologetically.  "Heem 
moder  is  dead." 

I  bathed  the  hot  little  head,  and  the  touch  of 
my  hand  made  the  poor  wee  thing  more  contented. 
After  this  I  sent  Frenchy  to  our  house  for  some 
alcohol,  with  which  I  washed  the  boy,  who  finally 
fell  into  a  restless  sleep. 

Frenchy  had  placed  his  only  chair  near  the 
pallet  for  me,  and  after  a  while  he  drew  up  a  big 
pail,  on  the  bottom  of  which  he  sat,  with  his 
elbows  upon  his  knees  and  his  jaws  in  the  palm 
of  his  hands,  staring  at  the  child.  One  could  see 
that  an  immense  fear  was  upon  the  man,  but  that 
my  presence  was  of  some  comfort  to  him.  It 
really  looks  as  if  men  in  trouble  always  seek  help 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  283 

from  women,  and  this  poor  fellow  was  now  lean- 
ing upon  me,  just  as  I  had  leaned  on  his  big  arm 
when  we  had  made  our  way  through  the  storm. 
Something  was  tearing  away  at  his  heart-strings, 
and  after  a  time  the  pain  of  it,  I  think,  opened 
the  fount  of  his  memories,  as  if  an  irresistible  de- 
sire had  come  upon  him  for  the  balm  there  is  in 
pouring  them  out. 

How  can  I  tell  you  all  that  he  said?  It  was  in 
fragments,  disconnected,  and  represented  the 
great  tragedy  of  a  humble  life.  I  remember  that 
several  times,  while  he  told  it  to  me,  my  hand 
rested  in  sympathy  upon  that  great  arm  of  his, 
that  had  now  become  very  weak.  It  was  at  first 
just  the  simplest  little  tale  of  love  somewhere 
on  the  coast  of  Brittany,  and  of  vows  exchanged 
before  a  Virgin  that  stretched  out  her  arms  to- 
wards the  sea.  And  then  Yves  was  taken  away 
upon  a  warship,  and  there  were  tears  and  prayers 
for  his  return.  He  couldn't  remember  all  the 
countries  from  which  he  had  sent  letters,  but 
after  many  months  answers  ceased  to  come. 

Then  a  new  recruit  had  joined,  who  belonged 
to  his  town,  and  informed  him  that  the  family 


284  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

had  moved  away  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean, 
to  St.  Pierre-Miquelon.  So  Yves  had  written, 
but  still  no  letters  came.  But  one  day  it 
chanced  that  the  cruiser  was  sent  up  there,  to 
keep  an  eye  on  the  fisheries,  and  he  was  in  a  fever 
of  waiting  until  they  should  arrive.  On  the  first 
day  that  he  obtained  shore  leave  he  had  wan- 
dered up  and  down  the  little  streets,  and  looked 
at  names  over  cafes  and  shops,  and  asked  ques- 
tions of  all  who  would  listen  to  him.  No  one 
knew  anything  of  Jeanne-Marie  Kermadec.  At 
last  one  man  remembered  that  a  family  of  that 
name  had  remained  less  than  a  year  and  had  gone 
back  to  France. 

Then  he  had  wandered  off  again,  and  from  the 
cafes  comrades  of  his  called  to  him  to  join  them, 
but  he  strolled  on,  and  suddenly  he  had  seen  a 
hollow-eyed  woman  enter  a  drinking-shop,  and 
on  her  arm  she  bore  a  baby.  So  of  course  he  had 
followed  her,  feeling  as  if  he  had  been  very  drunk. 
But  he  had  not  had  a  drop.  She  had  gone 
to  a  bleary  man  who  sat  at  a  little  table,  with 
others,  and  tried  to  make  him  come  out  with  her. 
But  the  man  swore  at  her,  and  the  woman  left, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  285 

crying,  and  Yves  had  followed  her  out  into  the 
street,  and  when  he  spoke  she  knew  him,  and 
cried  harder.  So  he  had  gone  as  far  as  her  house, 
and  then  she  wept  on  his  shoulder.  Her  people 
had  gone  away  but  she  had  remained,  for  her 
love  had  gone  out  to  this  man  and  the  Virgin  on 
the  hill  was  very  far  away.  At  first  she  had 
been  very  happy,  but  now  Yves  could  see  what 
was  happening,  and  the  baby  was  very  hungry, 
for  there  was  no  bread  in  the  house. 

Then  Yves  had  emptied  his  pocket  on  the  table 
and  gone  away,  very  unsteadily,  and  some  of  the 
men  on  his  ship  laughed  at  him.  But  perhaps  he 
was  looking  dangerous,  because  after  he  had 
glared  at  them  once  they  left  him  alone. 

After  this  he  had  met  Jeanne-Marie  several 
times,  but  his  ship  soon  left  on  a  trip  to  some 
places  in  Canada.  In  one  of  these  there  was  a 
great  coal  mine  near  the  sea,  and  in  another  town 
perched  queerly  on  a  rock  they  had  anchored  in 
the  Saint  Laurent.  Yes,  perhaps  it  was  Quebec; 
he  knew  the  people  spoke  French  there.  Then 
after  a  time  the  cruiser  had  returned  to  St.  Pierre. 
He  thought  it  might  be  better  not  to  go  back  to 


286  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

that  house,  but  he  found  that  he  could  not  keep 
away. 

It  was  some  illness  he  did  not  know  that  killed 
her.  Yes,  he  had  been  there  when  she  died,  and 
had  paid  money  to  a  doctor  and  to  the  priest. 
Perhaps  she  just  died  of  not  having  enough  to 
eat,  he  didn't  know.  She  had  asked  him  to  kiss 
her  before  she  died,  and  it  was  the  only  time  since 
he  had  left  Brittany.  Then  Jeanne-Marie's  hus- 
band had  come  into  the  house,  and  borrowed  five 
francs  from  him  and  was  very  maudlin,  and  asked 
what  the  devil  he  was  going  to  do  with  that  brat, 
which  cried  all  the  time.  But  the  little  one  was 
quiet  when  Yves  took  it  in  his  arms,  so  poor 
Frenchy  asked  if  he  might  take  it,  because  he 
knew  it  would  die  if  left  there.  The  man 
had  laughed,  so  he  had  taken  it  on  his  arm  and 
wandered  out  in  the  street  with  it,  and  a  quarter- 
master asked  him  what  he  was  doing  with  a  baby. 
He  answered  that  he  didn't  know,  for  one  can't 
take  little  ones  away  on  warships.  He  had  met  a 
man  from  the  French  shore,  who  told  him  there 
was  a  schooner  from  Newfoundland  which  had 
lost  two  men  in  a  blow,  and  needed  a  hand  or 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  287 

two.  Then  he  had  gone  and  offered  to  ship  for 
nothing,  if  they  would  let  him  take  the  baby. 
Yes,  they  had  laughed  at  him,  but  the  skipper  was 
drunk  and  good-natured,  and  told  him  to  come 
aboard.  He  had  done  so  at  night,  when  no  one 
was  looking,  and  had  with  him  some  milk  that 
comes  in  cans.  So  they  had  sailed  away  for 
Newfoundland,  and  he  supposed  it  was  as  good  a 
place  as  any  for  a  man  who  was  now  a  deserter. 
Very  likely  they  had  looked  for  him  a  long  time, 
and  had  been  surprised,  for  he  was  accounted  a 
good  man.  Anyway  it  was  Jeanne-Marie's  baby, 
and  one  could  not  leave  it  to  be  neglected  and  to 
die,  because  Jeanne-Marie  had  loved  it  very 
much. 

Of  course  he  would  never  see  France  again, 
unless  the  boy  died.  If  this  happened  he  would 
go  and  give  himself  up,  because  nothing  would 
matter  any  more.  So  many  of  his  shipmates  had 
gone  to  lands  of  black  and  yellow  people,  and 
had  never  returned.  They  were  dead,  and  some 
day  he  also  would  be  dead,  and  it  made  no  differ- 
ence. 

I  really  think,  Auntie  dear,  that  he  had  quite 


288  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

forgotten  me  as  he  spoke,  low,  haltingly,  in 
mingled  French  and  English  words.  He  was 
just  rehearsing  to  himself  something  that  had 
been  all  of  his  life,  because  everything  that  had 
happened  before,  and  the  struggle  for  a  living 
afterwards,  were  of  no  moment.  Through  the 
poor  man's  ignorance,  through  his  wondrous  folly, 
I  could  discern  an  immense  love  that  had  over- 
powered him  and  broken  him  forever.  He  was 
an  exile  from  his  beloved  land  of  Brittany,  and 
would  never  see  its  heather  and  gorse  again, 
or  the  flaming  foxgloves  that  redden  some  of  its 
fields. 

And  all  this  because  of  a  little  child  that  was 
the  only  thing  left  that  had  belonged  to  the 
woman  he  had  loved  so  greatly!  He  said  that 
perhaps  that  Virgin  on  the  hills  might  still  be 
looking  far  out  over  the  waters,  and  he  knelt  be- 
fore a  little  crucifix  which  hung  from  a  nail  in 
the  rough  boards  of  the  walls.  I  heard  him  re- 
peating, in  a  low  voice,  in  soft  quick  words,  the 
prayers  his  faith  led  him  to  hope  might  be  heark- 
ened to  by  the  Lady  of  Sorrows,  as  she  watched 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  289 

from  that  little  hill  on  the  other  side  of  the  great 
sea. 

The  poor  candle  was  guttering  and  the  wind 
howled  outside.  I  looked  around  and  saw  the 
few  clothes  hanging  from  pegs,  the  rusty  cracked 
stove,  the  table  made  of  rough  boards,  the  bunk 
filled  with  dry  moss  and  seaweed,  and  then  my 
eye  caught  one  flaring  note  of  color.  It  was  a 
gaudily  hued  print  representing  a  woman  holding 
aloft  a  tricolor  flag,  and  labelled  La  Republique 
Frangaise!  And  the  poor  cheap  picture  was  all 
of  the  inheritance  of  this  man,  marooned  and 
outlawed  for  the  sake  of  a  woman  and  her  dying 
kiss,  which  had  been  the  only  reward  of  all  his 
devotion. 

So  I  sat  there,  awed  by  the  greatness  of  it  all. 
There  were  no  tears  in  my  eyes ;  indeed,  it  seemed 
too  big  a  thing  for  tears,  a  revelation  and  an  out- 
look upon  life  so  vast  that  it  held  me  spell-bound. 
I  had  never  realized  that  love  could  be  such  a 
thing  as  that,  feeding  upon  a  mere  sad  memory, 
able  to  take  this  rough  viking  of  a  man  and  toss 
him,  a  plaything  of  its  stupendous  force,  upon 


290  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

these  barren  rocks.  Surely  it  was  arrant  folly, 
utter  insanity,  but  it  showed  that  men's  lives  are 
not  regulated  by  clockwork,  and  that,  however 
erring  an  ideal  may  be,  the  passions  it  may  inspire 
can  bring  out  the  greatness  of  manhood  or  the 
ardent  devotion  of  women. 

It  awed  me  to  think  that  among  the  teeming 
millions  of  the  earth  there  were  thousands  upon 
thousands  bound  to  potential  outbursts  of  a  love 
that  may  slumber  quietly  until  death  or  awake, 
great  and  inspiring  in  its  might. 

As  the  muttered  prayers  went  on  I  watched 
the  uneasy  tossing  of  the  child,  until  Susie  Sweet- 
apple  came  in,  hurried  and  dripping. 

"You's  got  ter  come  home,"  she  said.  "Yer 
father  he's  bawlin'  as  how  he  wants  yer  back. 
My,  the  poor  mite  of  a  young  'un!  The  face 
o'  he  looks  dreadful  bad!  D'ye  know  it's  most 
midnight*?  Come  erlong  now,  ma'am." 

I  rose,  feeling  very  trembly  about  the  knees. 
There  was  nothing  that  I  could  do.  I  could  not 
let  poor  Daddy  worry  any  longer  about  me. 

"Come  for  me,  Yves,"  I  told  the  man,  "if  he 
seems  worse,  or  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  291 

He  came  to  me,  and  I  saw  that  his  eyes  were 
full  of  tears  as  I  put  my  hand  out  to  him.  He 
lifted  it  up  to  his  lips  with  a  sob. 

So  we  two  hurried  back  home.  By  this  time 
the  wind  had  abated  a  little,  and  the  moon  was 
shining  through  some  great  rifts  in  the  clouds, 
the  waters  of  the  cove  reflecting  a  shiny  path. 
The  road  was  no  longer  in  darkness;  I  could  see 
it  dimly,  rising  to  higher  ground. 

I  will  write  again  very  soon, 
Your  loving 

HELEN. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

[From  Mr.  Walter  B.  Jellife  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

My  dear  Jennie: 

You  know  I'm  no  great  hand  at  letter  writing 
when  I  have  no  stenographer  at  hand.  It  may 
not  be  courteous  of  me  to  say  I  am  writing  to  you 
because  I  am  the  lonesomest  old  party  you  have 
seen  in  a  half  a  century,  but  you  have  your  dear 
sister's  sweet  disposition,  and  I  know  you  will 
forgive  me.  I  am  all  alone  in  this  packing-box 
of  a  house,  when  I  expected  to  be  at  sea  and 
sailing  for  Newport  to  say  how  d'you  do  on  my 
way  to  New  York.  I  wanted  to  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  your  kindly  face  and  of  having  you 
take  that  niece  of  yours  in  hand  for  a  time.  The 
girl  is  getting  beyond  me,  and  when  I  want  to 
bluster  she  looks  at  me  just  as  her  mother  used 
to  and  I  get  so  weak  that  you  could  knock  me  over 

with  a  feather.     She  looks  so  much  like  Dorothy 

Mi 


SWEETAPPLE  COV£ 

that  sometimes  I  have  to  pinch  myself  to  make 
sure  it  is  not  her  mother  sitting  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table. 

When  a  man  is  sixty,  and  begins  to  think  he 
owns  his  fair  share  of  the  earth,  or  even  a  bit 
more,  I  daresay  that  it  does  him  good  to  be  hum- 
bled a  little,  but  it's  a  hard  thing  to  become  used 
to.  Hitherto  when  Helen  wanted  anything  I 
always  let  her  have  it,  for  on  the  whole  she  has 
always  been  sensible  in  her  desires  and  requests, 
or  maybe  I  have  been  an  old  fool.  Didn't  some 
Frenchman  say  once  that  an  old  man  is  a  fellow 
who  thinks  himself  wise  because  he's  been  a  fool 
longer  than  other  people"?  Anyway,  that's  me! 
For  the  last  few  days  I  have  been  itching  to  scrap 
with  her,  and  I  find  she  minds  me  about  as  much 
as  the  man  in  the  moon. 

Of  course,  Jennie,  it  is  a  disgruntled  old 
brother-in-law  who  writes  this,  and  you  will  have 
to  make  allowances. 

Would  you  believe  that  last  night  she  went 
out  and  remained  till  after  midnight  in  a  sailor's 
house,  watching  a  sick  child,  after  I  had  objected 
to  her  doing  so,  as  forcibly  as  I  could*?  I  had 


294  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

to  send  the  queer  female  native  who  looks  after 
us  to  that  shanty  to  bring  her  back,  and  the  child 
returned  with  swollen  eyes  and  a  drawn  face  that 
positively  hurt  me  to  see.  She  has  derived  so 
much  benefit  from  her  stay  here,  and  was  looking 
so  splendidly  just  a  few  days  ago,  that  I  felt 
angry  enough  to  have  whipped  her,  if  a  silly  old 
chap  like  me  could  ever  chastise  a  daughter  like 
Helen.  At  any  rate  I  rushed  her  off  to  bed,  and 
I  know  she  never  went  there  for  a  long  time.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  instead  of  sleeping  she  was 
probably  scribbling  to  you. 

This  morning  she  was  down  before  eight,  and 
I  will  acknowledge  that  she  looked  better  than  I 
had  expected.  Yet  there  were  great  dark  rings 
under  her  eyes,  and  I  tried  to  look  as  disagreeable 
as  possible.  But  you  women  are  too  smart  for  an 
old  fellow  like  me.  She  simply  cuddled  up  to 
me  as  I  sat  in  the  only  armchair  in  Sweetapple 
Cove  and  put  her  arm  around  my  neck,  and  I 
could  only  grumble  a  little  like  a  decrepit  idiot. 

Then  she  looked  out  of  doors  and  rushed  back 
again,  and  put  on  that  crazy  woollen  cap  you 
crocheted  for  her,  and  opened  the  door  to  the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  295 

kitchen,  where  Susie  was  singing  some  hoarse 
ditty  of  her  own,  and  told  her  that  she  was  go- 
ing out  again  to  see  that  child,  and  that  she  would 
be  back  in  a  few  minutes.  That  Susie  showed 
her  sense,  and  I'm  going  to  give  her  a  big  tip. 

"Ye'll  not  be  doin'  no  sich  thing,"  shrieked  our 
domestic.  "They  be  plenty  sickness  already  in 
th'  Cove,  an'  Doctor  not  back  yet.  Ye'll  jist  take 
yer  coffee  as  is  waitin'  fer  ye,  an'  not  be  goin' 
ter  see  illness  on  a  empty  stummick.  An' 
Captaing  he've  been  round  ter  say  they  is  still 
quite  a  jobble  of  a  sea  outside  but  he  can  make  it 
fine,  and  he've  steam  up.  So  it's  good-by  to  th' 
Cove  this  fine  marnin.' ' 

"Yes,"  I  said  hurriedly.  "We're  off  just  as 
soon  as  we've  had  breakfast  and  the  men  have 
moved  everything  down  to  the  yacht.  It  is  a 
corking  fine  day,  and  as  we're  all  proof  against 
sea-sickness  we've  got  nothing  to  worry  over.  Of 
course  you're  all  played  out  after  that  nursing  all 
night,  and  are  a  foolish  girl,  but  I  suppose  one 
can't  keep  women  away  from  those  jobs.  Sit 
right  down  and  have  your  breakfast." 

"I'll  have  to  see  that  child  before  we  leave, 


£96  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Daddy,"  she  said,  "and — and — and  then  I  will 
be  all  ready." 

She  spoke  in  such  a  queer  way  that  I  was  posi- 
tively alarmed.  I  am  sure  I  have  never  seen  her 
look  like  that. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  asked  her.  "You 
speak  in  such  a  weary,  discouraged  way  that  you 
must  be  getting  ill.  You  have  simply  tired  your- 
self to  death  over  that  boy  of  Frenchy's.  By 
George !  But  I'll  be  glad  when  we  get  away  from 
this  place!" 

And  then  the  minx  looked  at  me,  just  as  sweetly 
as  ever,  and  her  voice  had  that  little  caressing  tone 
of  hers. 

"Don't  worry,  dear  Daddy,  I'll  have  plenty  of 
rest  at  sea,"  she  told  me. 

So  we  had  our  breakfast,  very  pleasantly,  and 
I  was  thanking  my  stars  that  all  our  troubles 
would  be  over  in  no  time,  little  thinking  that 
they  were  just  beginning.  So  I  rose,  and  took  my 
stout  cane,  very  proud  of  showing  the  population 
how  nicely  I  could  walk,  and  went  out  on  the 
porch,  ready  to  go  on  board  the  yacht.  The  men 
were  coming  up  to  get  our  baggage  and  the  furni- 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  297 

ture  we  had  taken  from  the  Snowbird,  and  Susie 
was  ready  to  boss  them.  Then  Helen,  who  had 
run  upstairs,  came  down  and  joined  me. 

"I'll  help  you  down  the  road,  Daddy,"  she 
said,  "and  after  that  I'll  run  back  to  Frenchy's. 
I  hear  that  Mr.  Barnett  went  off  somewhere  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  so  as  to  return  in  time 
to  see  us  off.  He  will  be  back  soon,  and  an  hour 
or  so  won't  matter,  will  it?  The  Snowbird 
doesn't  run  on  a  schedule,  Dad." 

I  looked  at  my  watch,  it  was  a  quarter  to  nine. 

"We're  off  by  ten,"  I  said.  "First  thing  I 
know  we  won't  get  away  till  afternoon  if  I  listen 
to  you  another  minute." 

We  had  gone  but  a  very  little  way  down  the 
road,  which  is  nothing  but  a  deplorable  sort  of 
goat-path  or  gutter  running  down  the  side  of  the 
hill,  when  we  saw  Dr.  Grant  coming  down  from 
Sammy's  house,  and  the  old  fisherman  was  re- 
monstrating with  him.  My  dear  Jennie,  it  gave 
me  the  shock  of  my  life!  The  young  man  was 
actually  staggering,  and  I  immediately  decided 
that  he  was  drunker  than  a  whole  batch  of 
lords. 


298  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"Yer  isn't  fit  ter  be  goin',"  the  old  fellow  was 
objecting.  "Ye  jist  come  back  ter  th'  house  an' 
git  ter  bed,  where  ye  belongs.  Ye'll  get  a  mite 
o'  sleep  an'  feel  better.  'Tain't  fair  ter  be  goin' 
again  right  off.  You  can't  hardly  be  a-holdin'  of 
yerself  up." 

Of  course  all  this  made  me  positive  that  the 
doctor  had  been  hitting  a  bottle  pretty  hard,  and 
I  was  angry  and  sorry  that  Helen  should  see  it 
too,  because  she's  taken  a  huge  liking  to  that  chap, 
and  hitherto  I  could  hardly  blame  her.  When  I 
turned  to  her  she  was  staring  at  him,  and  looked 
.as  if  some  one  had  hit  her  with  a  club. 

"It  is  too  bad,  daughter,"  I  said.  "I  would 
never  have  thought  that  he  was  that  kind  of  a 
man." 

Then  the  poor  girl  grabbed  my  arm  with  a 
clutch  which  actually  hurt. 

The  doctor  and  the  old  man  were  coming  very 
near.  I  saw  the  lad  look  up  at  us,  and  it  was 
really  pathetic  to  see  how  he  tried  to  straighten 
himself  up  and  steady  his  gait  as  he  took  his  cap 
off,  with  a  shaking  hand. 

"It's  really  too  bad,"  I  said  again. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  299 

And  then  Helen  just  stared  at  me  for  an  in- 
stant, shaking  her  head. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  she  cried.  "  I  won't  be- 
lieve it." 

She  let  go  my  arm  and  dashed  away  from  me. 
I  could  see  that  the  poor  child  was  moved  again 
by  that  instinct  of  helpfulness  which  you  dear 
women  have,  and  by  the  sense  of  loyalty  to 
friends  which  girls  like  Helen  always  show- 

"Oh!     What  is  the  matter?"  she  cried. 

Then  I  saw  the  doctor  move  back,  and  hold  up 
his  hand  as  if  seeking  to  repel  her. 

"Go  back!  Don't  come  near  me,"  he  said, 
hoarsely,  and  hurried  on,  unsteadily,  while  she 
stood  there,  dumbfounded,  unable  to  understand. 
I  saw  her  sense  of  helplessness  grow  into  resent- 
ment and  wounded  pride.  The  poor  little  girl 
was  hurt,  Jennie,  deeply  hurt. 

Our  men  had  already  invaded  the  house  and 
were  carrying  the  things  away,  and  the  population 
of  Sweetapple  Cove  was  gathering,  for  our  de- 
parture was  even  a  more  wonderful  event  than  our 
arrival.  There  was  not  a  house  in  the  Cove  that 
Helen  had  not  visited,  and  she  has  made  friends 


300  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

with  every  last  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry  in  the  place, 
and  their  wives  and  children.  I  know  that  the 
women  have  appreciated  her  friendly  interest  in 
their  humble  lives.  Some  little  children  were 
howling,  possibly  at  the  prospect  of  being  hence- 
forth deprived  of  the  sweets  she  has  distributed 
among  them.  All  the  fish-houses  and  the  flakes 
were  deserted,  though  it  was  a  fine  drying  day. 
The  men  came  towards  us,  with  slightly  embar- 
rassed timidity,  and  I  shook  hands  all  around  as 
they  grinned  at  us  and  wished  us  a  good  journey. 
They  actually  wanted  to  carry  me  down  to  the 
yacht. 

So  I  took  Helen's  arm  again,  after  declin- 
ing their  kind  offers,  and  began  my  slow  descent 
to  the  cove. 

My  poor  girl  was  walking  very  erect,  and  she 
often  smiled  at  the  people  who  surrounded  us. 
But  I  could  see  that  it  took  the  greatest  effort  on 
her  part.  I'm  sure  she  was  impatient  to  be  gone 
and  wanted  to  shut  herself  up  in  her  stateroom. 
It  was  so  hard,  Jennie,  to  see  the  dear  child  whose 
nature  has  ever  been  such  a  happy,  cheery  one, 
and  who  has  never  seemed  to  have  a  moment's 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  301 

suffering  in  her  life,  give  such  evidence  of  pain 
and  sorrow. 

It  was  at  this  moment,  Jennie,  that  the  suspi- 
cion entered  my  soul,  that  I  had  been  wrong  in 
letting  her  enjoy  so  much  of  the  society  of  this 
young  man,  who  is  certainly  a  fine,  attractive  fel- 
low when  in  his  right  mind.  Isn't  it  wonderful 
how  young  people  become  attracted  by  one  an- 
other, and  their  heads  and  hearts  get  filled  while 
we  old  people  can  only  worry,  for  whether  they 
choose  well  or  ill  it  always  ends  in  our  being  left 
alone. 

I  noticed  that  Frenchy  and  Sammy  were  not 
among  the  people  who  crowded  about  us  to  say 
good-by.  I  looked  for  them  in  vain,  and  was  a 
bit  hurt  that  they  should  be  absent,  for  we  have 
become  very  fond  of  them.  Helen  was  also 
searching  the  friendly  faces,  and  I  knew  that  she 
missed  them. 

Her  head  was  held  high  up,  and  but  for  the  lit- 
tle curling  up  of  her  lip,  in  which  her  teeth  bit 
hard,  she  would  have  looked  a  picture  of  serene 
indifference.  We  were  nearing  Frenchy's  shack, 
in  front  of  which  the  path  leads  to  the  cove,  and 


302  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

finally  we  were  opposite  the  ramshackle  place. 
It  must  be  very  dreadful  to  a  girl,  who  has  learned 
to  admire  a  man,  perhaps  even  to  love  him,  to 
discover  that  her  idol  has  feet  of  clay.  She  had 
allowed  the  best  of  her  nature,  I  could  see  it  now, 
to  be  drawn  in  admiration  and  regard  towards  a 
man  she  deemed  unworthy.  That  odor  of  the 
fish-houses  had  always  been  bad  enough  before, 
but  now  it  seemed  to  rise  in  her  nostrils  and  sicken 
her.  And  now,  Jennie,  I  can  only  repeat  Puck's 
words,  "What  fools  we  mortals  be!" 

That  man  Frenchy  rushed  out  of  the  door  as  we 
were  going  by.  His  face  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
suffering  tortures. 

"Please,  please !"  he  cried.  "Come,  vite,  heem 
Docteur  hawful  seek.  Me  no  can  stan'  it  no 
more!  You  so  good  in  de  las'  night,  mademoi- 
selle, now  please  come  in,  for  de  lofe  of  le  bon 
Dieu!" 

And  then  the  strain  that  had  been  on  the  heart 
of  my  poor  girl  seemed  to  give  way,  suddenly. 
The  tension  was  released,  like  a  powerful  spring, 
and  the  hardness  went  out  of  her  face.  She 
dropped  my  arm  and  dashed  past  the  man  who 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  303 

sought  her  help,  and  entered  the  place,  where 
I  followed  as  fast  as  my  leg  would  let  me. 

First  she  looked  towards  the  child,  which  I 
suppose  she  expected  to  see  under  a  sheet  that 
would  have  just  revealed  the  stark  little  form, 
but  the  little  thing  was  smiling  ?.t  her,  weakly. 

"Je  vous  aime  bien"  he  said. 

Then  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  turned 
towards  the  man  who,  with  a  gesture  of  his  hand, 
had  swept  her  from  his  path.  He  had  arisen  on 
her  entrance,  and  leaned  hard  on  the  back  of  the 
chair.  To  my  surprise  he  spoke  quite  composedly, 
and  I  realized  I  had  made  an  awful  mistake. 

'This  is  all  wrong,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  he  said.  "I 
tried  to  prevent  Yves  from  calling  you.  The 
child  has  diphtheria  and  you  must  leave  at  once." 

The  man's  voice  was  frightfully  hoarse,  and 
he  unconsciously  put  his  hand  up  to  his  throat. 
She  looked  at  him  without  answering.  Then  she 
went  up  to  the  little  table  and  picked  up  a  small 
vial  she  had  noticed. 

"Antitoxine,  seven  thousand  units,"  she  read. 
Then  she  took  up  a  small  glass  syringe  armed  with 
a  bright  steel  needle,  and  stared  at  it. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"You  have  given  it  to  the  child*?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  just  a  few  minutes  ago,"  he  answered. 
"We  only  left  Edward's  Bay  at  sunrise.  The 
man  is  getting  well.  I  was  told  of  this  case  and 
went  up  to  Sammy's  for  the  antitoxine." 

"But  it  was  the  last  you  had!"  she  cried,  "and 
Atkins  has  only  been  able  to  start  this  morning  for 
more,  and  the  wind  is  very  bad  for  him.  It  may 
be  days  before  he  returns." 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders,  very  slightly, 
and  Helen  went  up  to  him,  scrutinizing  his  face, 
silently.  Then  she  put  her  ringers  on  the  wrist 
that  was  supporting  his  hand  on  the  back  of  the 
chair. 

"I  am  not  well,"  he  said,  "and  I  wish  you 
would  leave.  I  think  I  will  have  to  let  Mrs. 
Barnett  into  this  mess.  She's  away  at  Goslett's 
house,  where  they  expect  a  baby." 

"How  long  have  you  known  that  you  had  diph- 
theria too*?"  asked  Helen,  and  I  could  detect  in 
her  voice  an  intensity  of  reproof  that  was  wonder- 
ful, for  she  was  scolding  the  man,  just  as  excited 
mothers  sometimes  scold  a  little  one  that  has 
fallen  down  and  hurt  itself. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  305 

"I  was  beginning  to  feel  it  last  night,"  he  an- 
swered, "but  please  go  away  now,  for  it  is  dan- 
gerous." 

Then  he  addressed  me. 

"Mr.  Jelliffe,  do  take  her  away.  I  hear  that 
she  was  here  last  night  and  remained  for  hours. 
You  will  take  her  away  to  St.  John's  at  once,  and 
have  her  given  a  preventive  injection.  Now 
please  hurry  off." 

I  could  see  that  the  poor  chap's  voice  rasped 
his  throat  painfully.  His  two  hands  dropped  to 
his  side,  with  the  palms  turned  forward,  in  a  feeble 
gesture  of  entreaty. 

"You  knew  this  morning  that  you  had  it,"  said 
Helen  again.  "And  you  only  had  that  vial  and 
used  it  all  for  the  boy." 

He  nodded,  with  another  slight  shrug  of  his 
shoulders. 

"I  see  that  you  have  been  playing  the  game !" 
she  said  quietly. 

Then  she  turned  to  me,  seizing  one  of  my 
arms. 

"Hurry!"  she  cried.  "You  must  hurry, 
Daddy.  Why  don't  you  go  on?  He  has  diph- 


306  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

theria,  and  perhaps  half  the  people  here  will  have 
it  now.  Perhaps  he  is  going  to  die!  Come, 
Daddy,  you  must  hurry.  The  Snowbird  will  take 
you  to  St.  John's  and  you  must  buy  antitoxine, 
a  lot  of  it,  and  come  back  with  it  at  once.  And 
you  should  get  a  doctor,  and  a  nurse  or  two,  and 
I  will  stay  here,  and  please  don't  look  at  me  that 
way !  Do  hurry,  Daddy !  Oh !  I  was  forgetting 
your  poor  leg.  Never  mind,  take  your  time, 
Daddy,  but  as  soon  as  you  are  on  board  make  them 
hurry.  Susie  will  stay  with  me.  A  few  days 
won't  matter,  Daddy !" 

"Oh!  Daughter.  Please  come,"  I  implored 
her.  "I  promise  that  I  will  send  the  yacht  back 
at  once  with  a  doctor  and  everything." 

She  looked  at  me  in  amazed  surprise. 

"But  how  can  I  leave  now,  Dad"?"  she  asked. 
"Don't  you  understand  that  a  lot  of  people  may 
die  if  you  don't  get  help  at  once,  and  of  course 
I  must  stay.  You  will  do  your  best,  won't  you"? 
Come,  dear,  and  let  me  help  you  down  the  path. 
You  can  be  gone  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Leave  you  here!"  I  exclaimed,  indignantly. 
"You  are  crazy,  girl !  I'll  stay  with  you,  of 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  307 

course.  Here,  some  of  you  fellows,  run  down  to 
the  cove  and  tell  my  skipper  to  come  here  at 
once." 

So  I  stood  there,  just  outside  the  door,  watching 
a  man  scramble  down  the  road,  who  finally  re- 
turned with  Stefansson.  Helen  stood  perfectly 
still,  except  for  the  toe  of  one  of  her  boots,  which 
was  tapping  a  tattoo  on  the  boards. 

"Get  the  Snowbird  under  weigh  at  once,*'  I 
shouted.  "Run  up  to  St.  John's  and  buy  all  the 
antitoxine  you  can  get  hold  of,  any  amount,  bar- 
rels of  it,  if  it  comes  that  way.  And  bring  a 
doctor  back  with  you.  Promise  him  all  the 
money  he  wants.  And  get  a  nurse,  or  a  couple 
of  them,  or  a  dozen.  Regular  trained  nurses, 
you  understand.  Yes,  it's  antitoxine  I  want. 
Write  it  down.  It's  the  stuff  they  use  for  diph- 
theria. Then  get  back  here  at  once.  Carry  all 
the  sail  she'll  bear  and  all  the  steam  she'll  take. 
Look  lively  and  don't  waste  a  minute.  Here,  you 
Sammy!  Go  aboard  too  and  help  pilot  her 
back  if  it's  dark  or  foggy.  Good  luck  to  you  and 
jump  her  for  all  she's  worth!" 

I  suppose  I  spoke  like  a  crazy  man,  but  the  two 


308  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

started  down  hill.  Stefansson,  who  has  long  legs, 
only  beat  the  old  fellow  by  a  skip  and  a  jump. 
Then  I  saw  the  men  casting  off  the  hawsers,  and 
the  thin  film  of  smoke  became  black,  and  the 
good  old  Snowbird  shook  herself.  I  was  tickled 
to  see  how  a  crew  of  chaps  used  to  count  seconds 
in  racing  were  handling  her.  She  was  moving, 
the  smoke  pouring  thicker  and  thicker  from  her 
funnel,  and  the  screw  began  to  churn  hard. 
Then  her  sharp  bowsprit  turned  around  a  little, 
till  it  was  aimed  at  that  cleft  between  the  rocks. 
She  gathered  speed  and  struck  the  billowing  seas 
outside  and  turned  a  bit.  Then  the  big  sails  be- 
gan to  rise,  as  did  the  jibs,  and  I  saw  a  man  run 
out  to  the  end  of  the  bowsprit  as  a  thick  white 
rope  ran  up  to  the  fore  topmast  head  and  broke 
out  into  a  fleecy  white  cloud  of  silk.  Then,  un- 
der the  great  balloon  jib  topsail  my  little  ship 
flew  off  like  a  scared  bird  and  disappeared  behind 
the  edges  of  the  cliffs. 

"Byes,  did  yer  ever  see  the  like  o'  that1?" 
shouted  an  old  fisherman,  enthusiastically.  "My, 
but  Sammy's  a  lucky  dog  ter  be  gettin'  sich  a  sail. 
I'd  give  a  quintal  fer  the  chance," 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  309 

I  must  say  that  I  was  pleased  with  this  expert 
appreciation,  and  began  to  feel  better. 

"But  why  didn't  we  send  the  doctor  on  her*?" 
I  suddenly  asked.  "He  would  have  been  attended 
to  sooner.  We  could  have  taken  him  with  us." 

"He  wouldn't  have  gone,"  said  Helen,  whose 
cheeks  had  now  become  red  with  excitement. 
"He  would  never  leave  until  some  one  came  to 
take  his  place.  He  thinks  he  can  still  help  that 
child  of  Frenchy's." 

So  after  a  time  we  returned  to  the  house  we 
had  thought  we  were  seeing  the  last  of,  and  it 
seemed  very  different,  having  been  dismantled 
of  many  things  which  were  now  lying  on  the  dock. 

Helen  sat  down  for  a  moment,  putting  her 
elbows  on  the  table  and  resting  her  face  on  her 
hands.  So  of  course  I  went  to  her,  and  stroked 
her  head,  and  she  looked  at  me  with  eyes  that  were 
full  of  tears. 

"I'm  ashamed,"  she  said.  "At  first  I  thought 
just  as  you  did.  I  was  sure  he  had  been  drinking. 
And  he  seemed  so  awfully  rude  when  he  motioned 
me  away.  But  he  could  hardly  drag  himself, 
the  poor  fellow,  and  he  was  trying  to  keep  me 


310  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

away  from  him,  because  he  was  afraid  for  me." 
She  was  utterly  disconsolate,  and  I  could  only 
keep  on  stroking  the  child's  head  as  I  used  to, 
when  she  came  to  seek  consolation  for  babyish 
sorrows.  Of  course  I  was  worried  about  her,  and 
realized  how  helpless  I  was.  She  hadn't  grown 
over  night,  naturally,  yet  something  appeared  to 
have  been  added  to  her  stature.  She  was  a 
woman  now,  full  of  the  instincts  of  womanhood, 
and  she  was  escaping  from  my  influence.  Her  life 
was  shaping  itself  independently  of  me.  It  is 
pretty  tough,  Jennie,  to  see  one's  ewe  lamb  slip- 
ping away.  She  loves  me  dearly,  I  know  it,  but 
she  is  now  flowering  into  something  that  will  never 
be  entirely  mine  again,  and  the  realization  of  it 
is  cutting  my  heart. 

After  a  moment  she  was  restless  again,  and 
we  went  out  on  the  porch.  We  could  hear  Susie 
Sweetapple  messing  about  in  her  kitchen,  whose 
destinies  she  again  cheerfully  controls,  and  pres- 
ently some  men  came  down  the  road,  carrying  a  bed. 
"  'Un  says  he've  got  ter  have  his  bed  at 
Frenchy's,"  one  of  them  explained  to  me. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  311 

"  'Un's  scared  to  give  the  diphtherics  ter  Sammy's 
young  'uns." 

They  started  again,  wiping  their  brows,  for 
the  late  September  day  was  growing  warm,  and 
soon  after  we  saw  a  small  boat  entering  the  cove 
and  Helen,  who  seems  to  know  everything  about 
this  place,  declared  that  it  was  not  one  of  our 
boats,  as  she  calls  the  fleet  at  Sweetapple  Cove. 
It  reached  the  dock  and  a  man  jumped  out  while 
the  sails  were  still  slatting. 

Susie  had  stuck  her  head  out  of  the  window. 

"  'Un's  parson  comin',"  she  announced. 

Mr.  Barnett  hastened  towards  us  as  fast  as  his 
little  legs  would  carry  him.  He  passed  Frenchy's 
house,  not  knowing  that  the  doctor  was  there, 
and  stopped  in  surprise  when  he  saw  us. 

"I  thought  I  was  too  late!"  he  exclaimed. 
"We  saw  the  Snowbird  flying,  miles  away,  and  I 
thought  I  should  never  see  you  again." 

"The  doctor  is  at  Frenchy's!"  cried  Helen. 
"He  is  dreadfully  ill.  Please  go  and  see  what 
you  can  do  for  him." 

"I'll  go  at  once,"  he  replied.     "We  intercepted 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

the  mail-boat  and  I  have  a  letter  for  you,  Mr. 
Jelliffe,  and  one  for  the  doctor.  I  hear  he  saved 
that  man's  life,  over  to  the  Bay.  Been  up  with 
him  day  and  night.  You  can't  understand  what 
it  means  to  us  to  have  a  man  like  him  here,  who 
permeates  us  all  with  his  own  brave  confidence. 
The  blessing  of  it!  It  was  a  terrible  storm  that 
he  went  through  when  he  walked  over  to  the  Bay. 
It  is  an  awful  country,  and  his  steps  were  surely 
guided  over  pitfalls  and  rocks." 

The  little  man  is  quite  admirable  in  the  sturdi- 
ness  of  his  faith,  in  the  power  of  his  belief,  that 
is  the  one  supreme  ideal  always  before  him,  and 
I  shook  hands  with  him. 

"But  I  fear  he  is  very  ill  now.  A  boy  just  told 
me  they  had  to  carry  him  from  his  boat,  when  he 
returned  this  morning." 

"I'll  go  with  you  now  to  Frenchy's,"  said  Helen. 

"Are  you  not  afraid?"  asked  the  little  parson. 

"Are  you?"  she  asked,  just  a  little  rudely,  I 
fear. 

"With  me  it  is  a  matter  of  duty  and  love,  you 
know,"  he  replied. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"With  me  also,"  she  said,  with  head  bent  down. 
Then  she  looked  up  again. 

"I  don't  think  you  have  any  better  right  to  ex- 
pose yourself  than  I,"  she  said,  with  spirit.  "You 
have  children  of  your  own,  and  a  wife  to  think  of. 
Your  life  is  a  full  one,  rounded  out  and  devoted 
to  a  work  that  is  very  great.  Mine  is  only  be- 
ginning; nothing  has  come  from  it  yet;  I  have 
done  nothing.  It  all  lies  before  me  and  I  won't 
stand  aloof  as  if  I  were  outside  of  laboring  hu- 
manity, while  there  is  sickness  to  be  fought.  I'm 
going  with  you." 

She  came  to  me. 

"I  hope  you  don't  think  I'm  very  bad,  Daddy?" 
she  said.  "I'm  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trouble, 
but  something  tells  me  I  must  go.  I  just  have 
to!" 

I  looked  at  her,  as  she  walked  rapidly  away  with 
the  parson,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  steamer 
chair  that  had  been  brought  up  again,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  felt  that  age  was  creeping  up  on  me. 
It  looks  as  if  all  of  us,  ill  or  hale,  poor  or  rich,  are 
but  the  playthings  of  nature,  bits  of  flotsam  on 


314  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

the  ocean  of  human  passions.  Your  poor  dear 
sister,  Jennie,  died  young,  and  I  believe  that  her 
life  with  me  was  a  happy  one  as  long  as  she  was 
spared.  After  a  little  while  Helen  began  to  fill 
some  of  the  emptiness  she  had  left,  but  now  there 
come  again  to  me  memories  of  a  sweet  face,  up- 
lifted lovingly  to  my  own,  and  I  am  overcome 
with  a  sense  of  loss  indescribable.  And  yet  this 
is  mingled  with  some  pride.  My  daughter  is  no 
doll-like  creature,  no  romantic,  unpractical  fool 
destined  to  be  nothing  but  a  clog  to  the  man  who 
may  join  his  life  to  hers.  She  will  never  lag 
behind  and  cry  for  help,  and  hers  will  be  the 
power  to  walk  side  by  side  with  him.  She  can 
never  be  a  mere  bauble,  and  will  play  her  own 
part. 

Oh!  Jennie.  The  pluck  of  the  child,  the 
readiness  with  which  she  wants  to  give  the  best  of 
herself  because  she  thinks  it  right  and  just,  and 
because  she  refuses  to  concede  to  others  a  monopoly 
of  helpful  love ! 

That  young  man,  if  he  lives,  will  be  a  fit  mate 
for  any  woman,  but  I  swear  to  you  that  if  it  comes 
to  that  I  will  insist  upon  paying  the  salary  of 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  315 

some  man  to  take  his  place.  I  want  my  girl 
nearer  to  me  than  in  Sweetapple  Cove ! 

After  a  time  I  pulled  out  the  letter  Mr.  Barnett 
had  handed  me.  It  was  from  that  young  rascal 
Harry  Lawrence.  He  says  he's  heard  from  you 
about  that  caribou  shooting,  and  wants  to  come  up 
anyway  and  find  out  how  I  look  after  my  tough 
summer  in  this  neck  of  the  woods,  and  he's  never 
been  to  Newfoundland  anyway,  etc.,  etc. 

Of  course  that  boy  cares  as  much  for  my  looks 
as  for  those  of  the  Egyptian  Sphinx.  At  one 
time  I  really  hoped  that  Helen  and  he,  since  she 
would  have  to  leave  me  some  day,  might  grow 
fond  of  one  another.  I  know  how  devoted  he  is 
to  my  girl,  but  I'm  afraid  she  has  made  her  own 
choice.  I  must  write  to  Harry  that  we  shall  be 
leaving  before  long  and  that  it  will  be  too  late 
for  him  to  come  now, — as,  indeed,  it  is.  What 
puzzles  me  is  that,  on  his  own  part,  that  doctor 
never  has  seemed  to  be  anything  but  a  good  friend 
to  Helen.  I  suppose  I  was  an  old  fool,  and  never 
saw  things  that  went  on  under  my  nose.  Poor 
Harry,  he's  such  a  splendid  lad,  and  his  father 
was  my  dearest  friend,  as  you  know. 


316  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Helen  has  been  gone  for  hours,  and  I'm  going  to 
send  Susie  after  her.  In  the  meanwhile  I  have 
sought  to  possess  my  soul  in  patience  by  writing 
to  you. 

Affectionately  yours, 

WALTER. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Dearest  Aunt  Jennie: 

It  is  very  disturbing  to  think  that  one  has,  in 
some  ways,  been  a  very  naughty  bad  girl,  and 
yet  to  be  utterly  unable  to  see  how  one  could  have 
acted  any  differently. 

It  is  my  fault  that  we  are  still  here,  though 
we  were  all  ready  to  start,  and  were  on  our  way 
to  the  yacht  when  we  discovered  that  Dr.  Grant 
had  just  returned  from  one  of  the  outports  and 
was  dreadfully  ill.  He  has  been  so  kind  to  us 
that  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  us  to  leave  him  at 
such  a  time  and  I  just  had  to  insist  on  delaying 
our  departure,  and  of  course  I  made  poor  Daddy 
very  miserable.  The  Snowbird  had  to  wing  its 
flight  away  without  us,  hastening  to  seek  help. 
We  needed  succor  ever  so  badly,  so  very  badly 
that  if  one  of  those  strange  vows  of  ancient  days 

317 


318  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

could  have  hastened  her  return  by  one  little  hour 
I  would  willingly  have  undertaken  to  drag  myself 
on  my  knees  along  scores  of  miles  of  this  rock- 
strewn  shore.  I  begged  Dad  to  send  her,  and  he 
did,  at  once,  for  he  was  only  too  glad  to  do  any- 
thing he  could  for  the  doctor,  but  he  has  been 
so  dreadfully  anxious  on  my  account,  and  was  so 
eager  to  take  me  away  at  once  to  some  big  place 
where  I  could  be  treated  if  I  fell  ill.  You  under- 
stand, of  course,  that  I  am  not  ill  at  all,  and 
never  was  better  in  my  life,  and  that  there  is  no 
reason  at  all  to  be  afraid  for  me. 

Mr.  Barnett  and  I  left  the  house  yesterday 
morning  to  go  to  the  Frenchman's  place,  where 
the  doctor  has  insisted  on  remaining.  I  was  quite 
surprised  to  see  a  number  of  people  around  the 
poor  little  shack. 

They  all  knew  that  Dr.  Grant  was  very  ill, 
and  were  gathered  there  with  anxious  faces. 
They  simply  looked  worried  to  death.  Isn't  it 
wonderful,  Aunt  Jennie,  how  some  people  have 
the  faculty  of  causing  themselves  to  be  loved  by 
every  one?  Of  course,  his  coming  here  has  been 
such  a  great  thing  for  these  poor  fishermen  that 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  319 

they  have  learned  to  regard  him  as  their  best 
friend,  one  whose  loss  would  be  a  frightful 
calamity.  He  certainly  has  never  spared  him- 
self in  their  behalf. 

Mr.  Barnett  stopped  to  shake  hands  with  a  few 
of  them,  and  I  heard  little  bits  of  their  talk,  which 
made  me  feel  very  unhappy. 

"I  jist  seen  Frenchy  little  whiles  ago,"  one  of 
them  was  saying,  "and  they  wuz  tears  runnin' 
erlong  the  face  o'  he.  Yes,  man,  he  were  cryin' 
like  a  young  'un,  though  some  does  say  as  his  bye 
be  better.  Things  must  sure  be  awful  bad  with 
th'  doctor." 

The  fisherman  brandished  his  splitting  knife  as 
he  spoke,  and,  with  his  torn  oilskins  dripping  with 
blood  and  slime  he  was  a  terrible-looking  figure, 
until  his  arms  fell  to  his  side  and  he  stood  there, 
an  abject  picture  of  dejection. 

Then  I  heard  a  woman's  voice.  She  is  a 
poor  thing  whose  husband  and  two  sons  were 
"ketched"  last  year,  as  they  say,  by  these  dreadful 
seas,  and  some  think  that  her  brain  is  a  little 
affected. 

"I  mistrust  as  they  is  times  when  th'  Lord  'Un's 


320  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

kept  too  busy  ter  be  tendin'  ter  all  as  needs  Him 
bad,"  she  cried. 

"Hush,  woman!"  an  old  man  reproved  her. 
"Ye'll  be  temptin'  the  wrath  o'  God  on  all  of  us 
wid  sich  talkin's." 

The  poor  creature  stopped,  awed  by  the  dread 
possibilities  of  bringing  down  further  punishment 
upon  the  Cove,  and  began  to  weep  in  silence. 

The  men  had  removed  their  sou' westers  and 
their  caps  when  we  came  up  to  them.  I  believe 
that  our  arrival  relieved  them  a  little  from  their 
fears.  They  have  such  a  touching  faith  in  all  who 
have  been  kind  and  friendly  to  them.  It  looked  as 
if  our  coming  was  something  material  that  they 
could  lean  upon,  for,  in  their  ignorance,  they  deem 
us  capable  of  achieving  wonderful  things.  I  am 
certain  that  they  firmly  believe  that  their  little  par- 
son is  able  to  intercede  with  higher  powers  far 
more  effectively  than  they  possibly  can,  with  their 
humble  prayers.  So  a  few  of  them  returned  to 
their  fish-houses,  and  women  and  children  has- 
tened back  to  the  flakes,  since  the  sun  was  shining 
and  the  cod  must  be  dried  even  if  the  heavens  fall. 

I  remember  that  when  we  entered  the  house  I 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

was  very  nervous  and  afraid.  It  is  very  natural, 
Aunt  Jennie,  for  a  girl  to  be  frightened  when  she 
has  never  seen  much  sickness  before,  and  one  is 
lying  helpless  who  has  always  been  such  a  kind 
friend. 

His  little  iron  bed  had  been  put  up  in  a  corner 
of  the  room,  and  the  doctor  was  lying  upon  it, 
with  his  face  very  red.  His  breathing  came  very 
hard  and  rapidly,  and  it  was  horribly  distressing 
to  see  a  man  brought  to  such  a  state,  who,  a  few 
days  ago,  was  so  full  of  life  and  strength.  Yet 
when  he  saw  me  he  made  an  effort  to  rise  to  a  sit- 
ting position,  and  his  eyes  brightened,  but  he 
looked  anxiously  at  me. 

"You  haven't  gone  yet,"  he  said,  hoarsely. 
"And  you,  Barnett,  have  you  no  regard  for  your 
little  chaps'?  You  have  no  right  to  be  here,  and 
Frenchy  is  looking  after  me  all  right." 

"You  keep  your  breath  to  cool  your  porridge, 
boy,"  said  the  little  parson.  "I'm  in  charge 
now." 

What  a  queer  sort  of  freemasonry  there  must  be 
among  strong  men,  Aunt  Jennie,  which  allows 
them  to  say  gruff  things  to  one  another  in  friendly 


322  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

tones.  The  sick  man  seemed  to  recognize  the  lit- 
tle parson's  authority  and  lay  back,  exhausted  and 
conquered. 

"I've  done  all  I  could,"  he  said. 

I  was  so  sorry  to  hear  the  tone  of  discourage- 
ment in  his  voice.  He  is  just  a  man,  Aunt  Jennie, 
with  a  man's  weaknesses  and  a  man's  strength,  and 
for  the  moment  the  latter  had  forsaken  him.  I 
suppose  that  some  of  his  self-reliance  had  gone, 
for  after  a  moment  he  smiled  at  us,  and  doubtless 
was  glad  to  have  friends  with  him  and  was  com- 
forted by  their  sympathy. 

I  could  not  help  marvelling  at  the  efficiency  of 
the  little  parson,  who,  before  they  had  a  doctor 
here,  was  compelled  to  do  the  best  he  could  to 
take  care  of  sick  people,  assisted  by  his  wife. 
He  questioned  the  doctor,  who  wearily  told  him 
of  some  things  that  might  be  done  for  him,  but 
without  appearing  to  care.  Mr.  Barnett  ran  out 
of  the  house  and  up  to  Sammy's,  returning  with 
some  bottles.  He  looked  at  labels  ever  so  care- 
fully and  mixed  some  drugs  with  water,  after 
which  he  wound  some  cotton  on  a  stick  to  make 
a  sort  of  a  brush. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  323 

"Now  sit  up  a  little  and  let  me  fix  your  throat," 
he  said.  "Yes,  you've  got  to  take  some  of  your 
own  medicine  now,  old  fellow.  Frenchy,  you  get 
behind  him  and  hold  him  up.  The  light  is  poor 
here;  better  bring  your  candle.  Miss  Jelliffe, 
hold  it  just  this  way  for  me.  That's  good. 
Now  open  your  mouth,  my  boy." 

He  swabbed  the  throat,  in  which  there  were 
ugly,  white  patches,  so  conscientiously  that  it 
brought  on  severe  coughing,  and  after  this  he  com- 
pelled the  doctor  to  swallow  some  medicine. 

"If  keeping  at  it  will  do  you  any  good,  old 
man,  you  may  depend  on  me.  And  now  we'll 
have  a  look  at  that  kiddie." 

I  looked  around  the  room,  where  there  was  an 
awful  penury  of  all  sorts  of  things,  so  that  I  went 
up  to  our  house  and  brought  back  some  provisions. 
I  am  afraid  that  I  established  a  corner  in  milk,  for 
I  took  nearly  all  that  the  poor,  lone,  lean  cow  of 
Sweetapple  Cove  could  provide. 

When  Mr.  Barnett  finally  sat  down  I  noticed 
that  he  looked  quite  weary  and  exhausted. 

"Now  you  must  go  to  our  house,"  I  told  him, 
"and  get  Susie  to  give  you  something  to  eat.  I 


324  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

am  sure  that  you  have  had  nothing  since  last 
night,  and  I  won't  have  you  falling  ill  too.  I 
have  arranged  it  all,  so  please  don't  say  anything 
but  just  go,  and  don't  hurry  back.  There  is 
plenty  of  time  and  poor  Daddy  would  be  so  glad 
to  see  you.  I  am  sure  it  would  do  him  a  lot  of 
good.  I  can  watch  both  the  patients  perfectly 
well.  And,  Frenchy,  you  must  go  too  and  Susie 
will  look  after  you.  You  look  perfectly  starved, 
and  I'm  sure  you've  forgotten  to  have  any  break- 
fast. Make  him  go  with  you,  Mr.  Barnett!" 

They  protested  a  little,  but  finally  went  out, 
reluctantly. 

Of  course  I  have  always  looked  after  Daddy's 
comfort  a  good  deal,  but  when  you  have  plenty 
of  servants  it  is  very  easy  to  do,  especially  when 
one  has  also  an  Aunt  Jennie  to  come  around  from 
time  to  time  and  put  fear  in  their  hearts,  when 
they  don't  behave.  But  it  seemed  to  me  that  this 
was  really  the  first  time  that  I  had  tried  to  take 
charge  of  things,  although  it  didn't  really  amount 
to  anything.  I  suppose  it  comes  quite  naturally 
to  a  woman  to  boss  things  a  little  in  a  household. 

But  now  all  I  could  do  was  to  sit  down  by  the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  325 

bed,  with  my  hands  folded  in  my  lap.  I  have 
seen  so  many  women  do  this  for  hours  at  a  time, 
Aunt  Jennie,  and  I  could  never  understand  how 
they  did  it  without  an  awful  attack  of  the  fidgets. 
But  now  I  think  I  have  found  the  solution.  I  am 
persuaded  that  these  women  just  sit  down  quietly, 
and  that  the  strength  flows  back  into  them  in  some 
mysterious  way,  and  presently  they  become  as 
strong  as  ever,  just  as  happens  with  those  storage 
batteries  of  the  automobile,  which  are  all  the  time 
having  to  be  recharged.  I  don't  exactly  know 
what  the  folded  hands  have  to  do  with  it,  but  they 
are  certainly  an  indispensable  part  of  the  process. 
Dr.  Grant  rested  quietly  enough,  and  sometimes, 
when  he  opened  his  eyes,  I  saw  that  he  looked  at 
me,  in  a  strange,  sad  way.  But  he  was  exhausted 
by  the  malady  and  the  hard  work  of  the  previous 
days,  and  seemed  too  utterly  weary  to  be  suffering 
much  pain.  At  times  the  little  boy  would  moan, 
and  I  would  go  to  him.  It  would  only  take  a 
passing  of  my  hand  over  the  little  forehead,  or  a 
drink  of  water,  to  quiet  him  again.  The  poor 
wee  man  loves  me,  I  think,  and  I  hope  he  will 
never  know  what  a  tragedy  he  is  responsible  for, 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

but,  indeed,  I  hope  he  will  learn,  some  day,  that 
this  great,  rough  fisherman,  Yves,  has  laid  down 
all  of  his  life  for  him.  When  the  child  was  quiet 
I  would  return  and  sit  again  by  the  doctor. 

After  a  short  time  Mr.  Barnett  and  Yves  re- 
turned, and  were  soon  followed  by  Daddy  and 
Susie,  whose  sturdy  arm  supported  him.  Poor 
Dad!  He  was  looking  aged  and  worried,  and  I 
felt  ever  so  sorry  for  him. 

Susie's  way  of  speaking  to  people  is  invariably 
to  address  them  as  if  they  were  rather  deaf,  and 
as  if  no  one  else  could  possibly  hear. 

"Yis,  sor,"  she  was  saying,  "it's  jist  as  you  says, 
a  real  crazy,  foolish  thing.  But  fur  as  I  kin  see 
them  kind  o'  things  is  what  makes  up  the  most  o' 
folk's  lives.  They  is  some  gits  ketched  all  by 
theirselves,  and  others  gits  ketched  tryin'  ter  help 
others,  and  some  niver  gits  ketched  at  all  an'  dies 
peaceful  in  the  beds  o'  they.  If  there  didn't  no 
one  take  chances  th'  world  wouldn't  hardly  be  no 
fit  place  ter  live  in." 

I  suppose  that  Daddy  could  find  no  reply  to 
such  philosophy.  He  was  doubtless  very  angry 
on  my  account,  and  I  am  sure  he  had  been  giving 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Susie  a  piece  of  his  mind,  all  the  way  down.  He 
entered  the  shack,  ordering  Susie  to  remain  out- 
side. 

"Don't  you  dare  come  in,"  he  said,  quite  ex- 
asperated. "I  have  no  doubt  at  all  that  you  will 
have  to  look  after  all  the  rest  of  us  when  we  get 
ill.  You  can  go  back  to  your  pots  and  pans  or 
wait  for  me  out  of  doors,  just  as  you  wish." 

Then  he  came  in,  closing  the  door  behind  him, 
and  looked  around  the  room,  profoundly  dis- 
gusted. Mr.  Barnett  was  again  engaged  in 
swabbing  throats  while  Frenchy  supported  the 
patients  and  I  held  a  bottle  in  whose  neck  a  candle 
had  been  planted.  No  one  could  pay  much  at- 
tention to  him  just  then.  Poor  old  Dad!  He 
thinks  that  because  the  first  emigrant  in  our  family 
dates  back  a  couple  of  hundred  years  or  so  we  are 
something  rather  special  in  the  way  of  human  be- 
ings, and  I  know  very  well  that  he  thought  it 
most  degrading  for  a  daughter  of  his  to  be  in  such 
a  miserable  place.  Of  course  it  is  really  very 
clean,  Aunt  Jennie,  because  Yves  has  been  trained 
on  a  man  o'  war,  where  the  men  spend  nearly 
all  of  their  time  scrubbing  things.  I  have  seen 


328  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

them  so  often  at  Newport,  where  they  wash  down 
the  decks  even  when  it  is  pouring  cats  and  dogs. 
The  poor  dear  was  rather  red  in  the  face,  by  which 
I  recognized  the  fact  that  he  was  holding  himself 
in  for  fear  of  an  explosion. 

But  you  know  that  there  never  was  a  better  man 
than  Dad,  and  he  got  all  over  this  in  a  moment. 
Of  course  he  had  come  with  the  firm  intention  of 
explaining  to  the  poor  doctor  what  a  fine  mess 
he  had  made  of  things,  but  as  soon  as  he  saw  that 
poor,  pinched  face  on  the  pillow  he  changed  en- 
tirely. Quite  a  look  of  alarm  came  over  his  coun- 
tenance, and  he  was  certainly  awfully  sorry.  I 
have  an  idea  that  people  who  have  never  been  very 
ill,  and  who  have  never  seen  many  sick  people, 
possess  a  little  egotism  which  it  takes  experience 
to  drive  out  of  them.  He  had  surely  never 
thought  that  poor  Dr.  Grant  would  look  so  ill,  and 
his  bit  of  temper  melted  away  at  once.  He  forced 
himself  to  take  the  hand  that  was  nearest  to 
him. 

"I  hope  you  are  doing  very  well,"  he  said,  with 
a  queer  accent  of  timidity  that  was  really  very 
foreign  to  his  nature. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  329 

"They  are  taking  splendid  care  of  me,"  an- 
swered Dr.  Grant,  with  an  effort  that  made  him 
cough. 

Daddy  smiled  at  him,  in  a  puzzled  sort  of  way, 
and  then  turned  to  the  child's  couch,  gazing  at  it 
curiously.  Mr.  Barnett  stood  at  his  side. 

"He  doesn't  look  as  ill  as  .  .  ." 

He  whispered  this  as  he  pointed  to  the  bed 
where  the  doctor  was  lying. 

"The  boy  is  getting  well,"  answered  the  par- 
son, in  a  low  voice.  "He  had  a  large  dose  of  anti- 
toxine  and  it  is  beginning  to  show  its  effect." 

"Ah4?     Just  so,"  said  Daddy,  weakly. 

Then  he  looked  around  the  room  again,  quite 
helplessly. 

"Is  there  anything  that  I  could  do*?"  he  asked 
in  a  general  way. 

"Nothing,  Daddy,"  I  said.  "Thank  you  ever 
so  much  for  coming,  but  there  is  nothing  you  can 
do  now.  I  would  go  home  if  I  were  you.  I 
promise  that  I  will  return  in  time  for  supper." 

Then  Daddy  looked  around  again,  as  if  all  his 
habitual  splendid  assurance  and  decisiveness  of 
manner  had  forsaken  him.  After  this  he  tiptoed 


330  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

his  way  to  the  door,  outside  of  which  Susie  was 
waiting.  I  followed  him,  because  I  knew  he 
would  feel  better  if  I  just  put  my  hand  on  his  arm 
for  a  moment  and  assured  him  that  I  was  feeling 
perfectly  well. 

The  girl  pointed  out  at  sea. 

"It's  a-comin'  on  dreadful  foggy,"  she  said, 
gloomily. 

Daddy  and  I  looked  at  one  another,  and  we 
stared  at  the  dark  pall  that  was  sweeping  in,  raw 
and  chilly.  Of  course  we  at  once  knew  its  sig- 
nificance. It  must  surely  detain  the  Snowbird  on 
its  return  journey. 

Just  then  an  old  fisherman  came  up,  touching 
his  cap. 

"Beggin'  yer  pardon,  sor,"  he  said.  "Is  yer 
after  findin'  th'  doctor  gettin'  any  better*?" 

"I  can  hardly  tell  you,"  answered  Daddy,  im- 
patiently. "I  know  very  little  about  such  things, 
but  he  looks  very  badly  to  me." 

"Oh!  The  pity  of  it!"  exclaimed  the  man. 
"I  tells  yer,  sor,  it's  a  sad  day,  a  real  sad  day  fer 
Sweetapple  Cove." 

"Damn    Sweetapple    Cove!"    Daddy    shouted 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  331 

right  in  the  poor  fellow's  face  with  such  energy 
that  he  leaped  back  in  alarm. 

But  Susie  had  taken  hold  of  Daddy's  arm. 

"Now  you  come  erlong  o'  me,  sor,"  she  said, 
soothingly,  as  if  she  had  spoken  to  a  child. 
"Don't  yer  be  gettin'  excited.  Yer  needs  a  good 
cup  o'  tea  real  bad,  I'm  a-thinkin',  and  a  smoke. 
Yer  ain't  had  a  seegar  to-day,  and  men  folks  is 
apt  to  get  awful  grumpy  when  they  doesn't  get 
ter  smoke.  Come  erlong  now,  there's  a  good 
man." 

Strange  to  say,  Daddy  went  with  her,  willingly 
enough,  after  I  had  kissed  him.  He  didn't  resent 
Susie's  manner  at  all.  As  I  watched  he  stopped 
after  going  a  few  yards,  and  looked  out  at  sea, 
beyond  the  entrance  of  the  cove.  Everything 
was  disappearing  in  a  dull  greyness  that  was  be- 
ginning to  blot  out  the  rocky  cliffs,  and  he  turned 
to  the  girl. 

"My  boat  will  never  get  back  to-night,"  he  said, 
"and  I  suppose  that  to-morrow  will  be  worse.  It 
always  is.  I  wonder  whether  there  is  another 
such  beastly  country  in  the  world?" 

"I've  heerd  tell,"  remarked  Susie,  sagaciously, 


332  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"as  how  they  is  some  places  as  has  been  fixed  so 
them  as  lives  in  'em  will  sure  know  what  a  good 
place  Heaven  is  when  they  gits  to  it." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

[Dr.  Frank  Johnson  to 
Mrs.  Charlotte  Johnson 

Dearest  Mother: 

I  had  expected  to  sail  away  from  St.  John's 
on  the  twentieth  to  return  to  you  before  resuming 
the  hard  search  for  something  to  keep  together  the 
body  and  soul  which  struggling  young  doctors 
without  means  have  so  hard  a  time  to  maintain  in 
their  proper  relation.  Since  the  old  Chanderna- 
gore  limped  into  St.  John's  with  its  bow  stove  in, 
after  that  terrible  collision,  and  the  underwriters 
decided  that  she  was  hopelessly  damaged,  my 
prospects  have  been  those  of  a  man  living  on  a 
pittance  and  merely  entitled  to  his  passage  home 
and  a  trifle  of  salary. 

A  ship-surgeon  utterly  stranded  can  hardly  be 
a  very  merry  soul,  and  the  day  before  yesterday 
I  was  strolling  rather  disconsolately  about  the 
docks,  when  I  saw  a  stunning  yacht  come  in.  She 

333 


334  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

was  a  sight  to  feast  one's  eyes  on,  and  until  the 
last  moment  was  under  a  cloud  of  sail  while  her 
funnel  belched  black  smoke.  For  a  few  minutes 
I  saw  some  of  the  smartest  handling  of  canvas 
it  has  ever  been  given  me  to  behold.  As  she  came 
on  the  great,  silken,  light  sails  fluttered,  shrank 
and  disappeared  as  if  by  magic;  her  headway 
stopped  and  the  screw  ceased  its  throbbing.  She 
was  just  like  a  grand,  white  bird  folding  its  wings 
and  going  to  sleep.  But  even  before  she  had 
ceased  to  move  a  boat  was  overboard  and  four 
men  were  at  the  sweeps,  pulling  for  shore.  A  few 
minutes  later  I  was  passing  in  front  of  Simpson 
&  Co.,  the  big  ship-chandlers  who  were  the  Chan- 
dernagore's  agents,  when  one  of  the  clerks  came 
out  and  ran  towards  me. 

"Won't  you  come  in1?"  he  asked,  excitedly. 
"There  is  the  skipper  of  that  white  yacht  that  just 
came  in  who  wants  a  doctor  at  once,  and  at  any 
cost.  We  supplied  that  boat  after  she  left  dry- 
dock  here,  some  weeks  ago.  She  belongs  to  regu- 
lar swells,  awfully  rich  people." 

"Is  the  man  hurt  or  ill?"  I  asked. 

"No,  he's  all  right.     There  is  sickness  at  a  little 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

outport,  diphtheria,  I  hear,  and  they  want  a  man 
at  once.  Money's  no  object." 

It  really  seemed  as  if  a  bit  of  luck  might  be 
coming  my  way,  at  last.  Indeed  I  wanted  badly 
to  see  your  dear  face  again,  and  that  silver  hair 
I  think  so  beautiful,  but  here  was  a  prospect  of 
sailing  away  on  that  stunning  little  ship  and  of 
earning  some  badly  needed  money,  so  that  I  felt 
like  whooping  with  joy.  I  leaped  through  the 
open  door  and  saw  a  very  gold-laced  man  who 
was  talking  very  fast  to  the  head  of  the  firm. 

"Here's  just  the  man  you  want,"  said  the  lat- 
ter. "He's  a  first-rate  young  chap  who  will  go 
anywhere  and  do  anything.  His  skipper  of  the 
Chandernagore  swears  by  him.  I  can  send  for 
him,  if  you  like." 

"No  time  for  that,"  interrupted  the  yacht's 
captain.  "There  is  diphtheria  at  Sweetapple 
Cove,  and  a  doctor  there  who  is  nearly  dead  with 
it,  I  believe.  I've  sent  our  mate  for  all  the  anti- 
toxine  he  can  buy,  and  he's  driving  around  to  all 
the  druggists  in  the  place.  We  also  want  a  nurse, 
several  nurses,  all  you  can  get.  I'm  keeping 
steam  up  and  will  start  the  minute  you're  ready." 


356  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"And  the  remuneration,"  suggested  Mr.  Simp- 
son. 

"Anything  he  wants  to  ask,"  said  the  captain, 
hurriedly,  turning  again  to  me;  "just  get  a  move 
on  you,  young  man.  Run  off  and  get  some 
nurses;  promise  any  money  they  want  to  charge, 
and  I  won't  wait  over  an  hour." 

He  saw  a  cab  passing  in  the  street  and  ran  out 
to  hail  it. 

"Here,"  he  said,  "get  into  this  thing  and  hunt 
for  nurses." 

In  his  excitement  he  actually  pushed  me  out  of 
the  shop  and  I  jumped  in  the  cab,  without  the 
slightest  idea  of  where  I  might  find  the  desired 
nurses.  At  the  nearest  pharmacy,  however,  I 
obtained  a  couple  of  addresses.  I  'phoned  to  the 
hospital  but  there  was  none  there  who  could  be 
spared.  On  following  up  my  clues  I  found  both 
nurses  away  on  cases.  More  telephoning  brought 
the  information  that  several  might  be  had  in  a 
day  or  two,  and  finally  I  called  up  Simpson  &  Co., 
who  informed  me  that  the  skipper  was  tearing  his 
hair  at  the  delay. 

"He  says  you're  to  return  at  once.    You  can  kill 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  337 

the  cab-horse  if  you  want  to.     He'll  pay  for  it." 

These  were  the  last  words  I  heard.  I  dashed 
off  to  the  little  hotel  where  I  stayed,  for  my  trunk, 
and  soon  we  were  galloping  along  the  peaceful 
streets,  here  and  there  encumbered  by  pony-carts 
laden  with  vast  piles  of  codfish,  and  finally 
reached  the  chandlery. 

"Well?"  asked  the  captain,  rushing  out. 

"Not  a  nurse  to  be  had  to-day,"  I  announced. 
"To-morrow  or  next  day  several  may  be  disen- 
gaged." 

There  was  an  ejaculation  excusable  under  the 
circumstance  and  the  skipper  grabbed  my  arm. 

"I  won't  wait  a  minute,"  he  said.  "I've  got  a 
doctor,  that's  the  main  thing,  and  all  the  anti- 
toxine  in  the  place.  Come  along." 

We  jumped  in  the  cab,  which  drove  off  rapidly, 
and  in  a  minute  we  reached  the  dock,  where  the 
yawl  was  waiting.  Two  of  the  men  grabbed  my 
trunk  and  put  it  on  board  and  the  skipper  tossed 
a  banknote  to  the  driver,  without  waiting  for 
change,  and  we  were  off. 

The  men  pulled  towards  the  yacht,  and  they 
must  have  been  watching  for  us  on  board  for  I 


338  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

heard  the  clanking  of  the  small  donkey  engine  and 
the  anchor-chain  stiffened  and  began  to  draw  in, 
fast.  We  scrambled  on  board,  the  trunk  was 
tumbled  in,  and  before  the  yawl  was  half  way 
up  to  the  davits  we  were  steaming  away. 

"Come  up  on  the  bridge  if  you  want  to,  Doc- 
tor," the  captain  called  down  to  me,  civilly. 

I  accepted  his  invitation  and  ran  up  the  steps. 
At  his  side  stood  a  grizzled  old  man  with  a 
seamed,  kindly  face  and  the  wrinkled  eyes  of  the 
men  who  spend  their  lives  searching  through  fog 
and  darkness. 

"Good  day,  sor,"  he  said  to  me.  "You're  a 
man  as  is  real  sore  needed  at  Sweetapple  Cove." 

"I  hope  I  may  be  of  service,"  I  answered. 

"Ye  will  be,  God  willin',"  he  assured  me. 

By  this  time  we  had  gathered  full  speed  and 
were  steaming  fast  between  the  narrow  headlands. 
The  pilot  was  dropped  a  little  later,  without  slack- 
ening our  way  much.  We  had  passed  swiftly  by 
the  crowded  flakes  which  clung  to  the  steep,  rocky 
shore,  inextricably  mixed  with  battered-looking 
fish-houses.  As  soon  as  we  struck  the  swelling 
seas  outside  we  saw  many  little  smacks  engaged 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  339 

in  fishing.  We  bore  no  canvas,  for  the  wind  was 
against  us  on  the  return  journey.  Then  I  noticed 
that  the  skipper  was  looking  anxiously  ahead, 
where,  at  a  distance,  a  low  fog-pall  was  gathering. 

"Yes,  sor,"  said  the  old  man,  guessing  at  his 
thoughts,  "it's  a-comin'  on  real  thick,  but  we's 
goin'  ter  pull  her  through." 

I  ran  below  and  got  my  oilskins  out  of  my 
trunk,  which  I  discovered  in  a  beautiful  little 
state-room,  prettily  furnished  and  dainty-looking 
indeed  to  a  surgeon  of  tramp  steamers.  I  did 
not  waste  much  time  in  inspecting  it,  however,  as 
I  was  interested  in  our  progress  towards  that 
ominous  bank  of  fog.  When  I  reached  the  bridge 
again  I  was  conscious  of  the  moist  chill  of  northern 
mists,  and  saw  that  the  vapor  was  closing  down 
upon  us  fast.  The  land  astern  was  disappearing  in 
a  grey  haze,  while  ahead  the  thickness  was  becom- 
ing more  and  more  impenetrable.  The  skipper 
kept  walking  from  end  to  end  of  the  bridge,  rest- 
lessly, and  I  could  sympathize  with  him.  He  was 
in  a  hurry,  a  deadly  hurry,  which  he  had  shown 
plainly  enough  from  the  first  moment  my  eyes 
had  rested  upon  him,  and  now  this  mist  was  ren- 


340  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

dering  all  his  haste  futile,  as  far  as  I  could  see. 
Every  moment  now  I  expected  to  see  him  ring 
down  to  the  engine  room  for  reduced  speed,  but 
we  kept  on  going,  doggedly,  blindly,  until  at  last 
we  were  pitching  over  long,  smooth  swells  that 
were  covered  by  a  blanket  of  murk. 

"We'll  have  to  slow  down,  Sammy!"  he  sud- 
denly cried,  impatiently,  to  the  old  man.  "That 
fog's  too  much  for  us,  and  getting  worse  every 
minute." 

"Keep  on  a  bit  yet,"  advised  the  latter.  "  'Tis 
all  clear  goin'  fer  a  whiles,  and  we's  too  close  in- 
shore ter  run  into  any  big  craft.  They'll  all 
be  standin'  out  to  sea." 

I  could  see  that  the  captain  was  torn  between 
his  keen  desire  to  keep  on  speeding  and  his  fear 
for  the  safety  of  his  beautiful  ship.  He  was 
utterly  unable  to  keep  still  more  than  a  minute 
at  a  time,  but  the  old  fisherman  looked  as  cool 
and  collected  as  if  he  had  been  puffing  at  his  rank 
old  pipe  within  the  four  walls  of  a  house. 

And  those  minutes  seemed  very  long,  then,  as 
they  always  do  when  men  are  laden  with  the 
weight  of  constant  suspense.  Presently  even  the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  341 

grey  and  blue  waters  our  sharp  bow  was  cleaving 
lost  their  color  and  the  whole  world  was  dismal, 
and  grey,  and  dripping. 

This  went  on  for  long  hours,  as  it  seemed  to 
me,  and  finally  the  captain  could  stand  it  no 
longer. 

"I'm  going  to  ring  for  half  speed,"  he  shouted. 
"We  can't  keep  this  up,  Sammy!" 

"Let  be,  let  be  fer  a  whiles,"  the  old  man 
counselled  again.  "I  knows  jist  where  I  be.  I'll 
not  be  runnin'  ye  ashore,  lad." 

And  the  yacht  kept  on  for  a  long,  long  time, 
cleaving  the  grey  water  and  the  fog,  between 
which  there  was  no  difference  now.  It  was  really 
a  spooky  thing,  even  if  a  sporting  one,  to  be  dash- 
ing at  fifteen  knots  through  that  wall  of  vapor. 
Our  steam  whistle  was  sounding  constantly,  and 
old  Sammy  listened  with  his  grey  head  cocked 
to  one  side,  in  a  tense  attitude  of  constant  atten- 
tion. 

"We's  gettin'  nigh,"  he  said,  quietly.  "I 
knows  the  sound  o'  he." 

Then,  after  a  long,  wailing  blast,  he  suddenly 
lifted  up  his  hand. 


"Port  a  bit  till  I  tells  yer,"  he  called.  'That'll 
do.  Keep  her  so." 

The  next  sobbing  cry  of  the  siren  brought  a  dull 
prolonged  echo  that  reverberated  in  the  air. 

"I  knowed  we  must  be  gettin'  close  to  un,"  he 
said;  "now  we'll  be  havin'  all  open  water  again 
fer  a  whiles." 

The  captain  was  tremulous  with  the  excitement 
he  bravely  sought  to  suppress,  and  my  own  heart 
was  certainly  in  my  throat.  We  were  all  strain- 
ing our  eyes  at  this  moment,  and  all  at  once  we 
dimly  had  revealed  to  us  something  like  the 
shadow  of  a  great  ghost-like  mass  that  slipped  by 
us,  very  fast,  with  a  roar  of  the  great  swells  burst- 
ing loudly  at  its  foot. 

"Thunder!  you  Sammy!"  shrieked  the  skipper. 
"I  won't  have  you  taking  such  chances.  I'm  just 
as  crazy  to  get  there  as  you  are  but  I'll  be  hanged 
if  I'm  going  to  smash  my  ship." 

"We's  all  right  now,  Cap'en,"  answered  the 
old  man,  quietly;  "I  sure  knows  all  right  what  we 
is  doin'." 

The  captain  had  taken  the  wheel,  and  he  glared 
at  his  binnacle  like  a  wild  man.  Now  and  then 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  343 

he  gave  a  swift  look  around  him,  nervously,  but 
the  old  man's  assurance  had  some  effect  upon  him. 
Yet  once  I  heard  him  snarling: 

"Any  man  who  ever  catches  me  cruising  around 
this  country  again  can  have  me  locked  up  in  an 
asylum.  After  I  get  shut  of  this  job  they  can 
get  some  one  else  if  they  ever  want  to  come  back." 

And  still  the  fog  seemed  to  deepen,  and  the 
moisture  dripped  from  everything,  and  the  very 
air  seemed  hard  to  breathe.  The  darkness  be- 
gan to  come  and  all  our  lights  were  burning,  while 
the  siren  continued  to  moan.  Several  times,  in 
answer  to  it,  we  faintly  heard  mournful  sounds  of 
fishermen's  horns,  and  once  we  blindly  swerved 
just  in  time  to  avoid  running  down  a  tiny 
schooner. 

"Beggin'  yer  pardon,  sor,"  the  old  man  said  to 
me,  "seein'  as  how  ye  ain't  busy  it  might  be  yer 
wouldn't  mind  startin'  a  bit  of  prayer  as  how  we 
don't  smash  up  one  o'  them  poor  fellows.  We 
jist  got  ter  take  some  chances,  fer  I  mistrust  th' 
Lord  he  be  wantin'  ter  save  that  doctor  o'  ours 
an*  only  needs  be  asked  the  right  way." 

We  were  now  shooting  through  that  fog  like 


344  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

lost  wild  things,  like  the  ducks  and  geese  be- 
wildered of  a  stormy  night,  which  mangle  them- 
selves against  the  wire  nettings  of  light  houses. 
Now  and  then  the  land  abeam  would  give  forth 
response  to  the  booming  of  our  whistle.  The  old 
man  Sammy  had  taken  the  wheel  and  his  grim 
face  was  frozen  into  an  expression  of  desperate 
energy,  as  his  keen  little  grey  eyes  peered  through 
the  murk.  By  this  time  there  was  a  heavy  roll 
and  our  tall  spars  were  slashing  at  the  mist  as  if 
seeking  to  cut  down  an  unseen  enemy.  Every 
man  on  board  was  under  a  nervous  tension,  con- 
scious that  a  big  thing  was  being  done.  For  a 
time  there  had  been  something  akin  to  fear  in  all 
our  hearts,  but  after  a  while  it  left  us,  to 
make  room  for  the  delirium  of  blind,  reckless 
speed. 

And  then,  suddenly,  like  a  flash,  the  captain 
grasped  the  old  fellow's  shoulder. 

"Slow  down,  man,"  he  shrieked.  "I  bet  all 
I've  got  you  don't  know  where  you  are,  and  I  can 
hear  waves  breaking  ashore." 

But  Sammy  lifted  up  his  hand,  with  an  au- 
thority that  seemed  inspired,  and  gave  another 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  345 

pull  at  the  whistle  cord.  It  brought  forth  a  sound 
that  was  repeated,  again  and  again,  confusedly. 
For  a  frightfully  long  half  minute  we  kept  up 
our  speed;  then  the  bell  jingled  in  the  engine- 
room  and  we  slowed  down  a  little.  Under  the 
old  fisherman's  hands  the  wheel  began  to  spin 
around  while  we  breathlessly  watched  him  aim  the 
ship  at  the  fuiious  breakers  inshore,  at  the  foot  of 
dark  cliffs. 

"For  God's  sake!  What  are  you  doing?" 
yelled  the  captain. 

The  bell  rang  in  the  engine  room  to  slow  down 
and  suddenly,  on  both  sides  of  us,  appeared  like 
devouring  jaws  great  mass  of  rock  upon  which  the 
huge  rollers  were  crashing  in  a  smother  of  spume. 
Between  them  the  yacht  slipped,  gracefully,  and 
this  time  the  siren's  shriek  was  like  a  victorious 
cry.  The  bell  sounded  again  and  the  Snowbird, 
after  her  long  swift  flight,  came  to  a  stop  between 
the  hilly  sides  of  Sweetapple  Cove,  where  men's 
voices  roared  indistinctly  at  us,  and  their  forms 
stood  dimly  revealed  by  twinkling  lanterns. 

And  now,  mother  dear,  I  am  writing  at  the  bed- 
side of  a  man  lying  in  a  poor  little  hut,  whom  I 


346  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

shall  leave  soon  for  a  few  hours  of  badly  needed 
rest.  I  shall  stop  for  the  moment,  but  I  have  a 
great  deal  more  to  say. 


CHAPTER  XX 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Dearest  Auntie: 

It  is  again  the  little  girl  to  whom  you  have 
been  a  mother  for  so  many  years  who  comes  to 
you  now,  to  lay  her  weary  head  upon  your  dear 
shoulder  and  seek  from  you  the  kindness  and  sym- 
pathy you  have  always  so  freely  given  me. 

Last  night  I  slept.  Yes,  slept  like  some  dead 
thing  that  never  cared  whether  it  ever  returned  to 
life,  but  which  would  awaken,  at  times,  stupidly, 
and  toss  until  oblivion  returned.  I  don't  exactly 
know  what  it  is  that  affects  me  so.  It  may  be  the 
long  watching,  I  suppose,  and  the  uneasiness  of  a 
heart  that  has  lost  its  owner,  and  seeks  and  seeks 
again,  turning  for  comfort  like  a  poor  lost  dog  to 
every  face  which  may  prove  friendly.  Just  now 
things  seem  to  be  in  such  a  dreadful  tangle  that 

347 


348  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

I  can  not  even  find  a  thread  of  it  that  I  can  un- 
ravel. 

Late  in  the  evening,  the  day  before  yesterday, 
I  was  sitting  by  the  bed  where  Dr.  Grant  was  ly- 
ing, and  the  conviction  kept  on  growing  upon 
me  that  he  was  becoming  worse  all  the  time.  I 
could  not  help  whispering  my  fears  to  Mr.  Bar- 
nett,  who  gulped  when  he  answered,  as  if  he  also 
knew  what  it  is  to  have  that  dreadful  lump  in 
one's  throat. 

The  long,  weary  hours  dragged  themselves 
along,  and  presently  the  doctor  began  to  speak, 
and  we  bent  forward  to  listen,  because  it  was  not 
very  loud  and  he  spoke  fast.  At  first  it  was  all 
a  jumble  of  delirious  words,  but  suddenly  he 
looked  at  me  and  shook  his  head. 

"My  own  poor  darling,"  he  said.  "I  am 
afraid  that  the  sea  has  'ketched'  me,  and  that  I 
shall  never  make  that  cove  again." 

Then  he  was  still  again,  so  very  still  that  I  was 
afraid,  and  the  tears  came  and  my  head  went 
down  in  my  lap,  between  my  hands,  and  the 
world  became  so  full  of  bitterness  that  I  did  not 
feel  as  if  I  could  stand  it  for  another  minute. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  349 

The  dear  little  parson  put  his  hand  on  my  shoul- 
der, in  that  curiously  gentle  way  of  his. 

''We  must  be  strong,"  he  told  me,  "and  we 
must  pray  for  power  to  endure." 

He  then  rose,  quietly,  and  moistened  the  doc- 
tor's lips  and  his  brow  while  I  looked  on,  feeling 
that  I  was  the  most  desolate  and  helpless  thing  in 
the  world,  and  as  if  I  could  weep  for  ever.  And 
then  all  of  a  sudden,  through  the  recurring  boom- 
ing voices  of  the  waves  breaking  on.  the  cliffs  out- 
side, burst  out  the  shrill  voice  of  the  Snowbird's 
siren  and  I  rushed  to  the  door.  Frenchy  followed 
me,  and  I  was  so  weak  that  I  hung  upon  his  big 
arm.  In  the  sodden  blur  of  everything  I  saw 
our  boat  coming  in,  like  a  great  white  ghost,  and 
there  were  more  blasts  of  her  whistle.  She  knew 
what  a  welcome  awaited  her  and  how  we  had 
despaired  of  her  arrival. 

In  the  darkness  I  could  see  that  people  were 
rushing  out  of  their  houses,  cheering,  and  I  heard 
piercing  cries  of  women. 

"Th*  white  ship  she've  come  back,"  some  of 
them  were  screaming. 

They  were  scrambling  down  towards  the  land- 


350  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

ing,  just  hoping  that  they  might  in  some  way  be 
of  service.  The  yacht  had  lost  her  headway  but 
the  propeller  was  still  churning,  and  I  could  see 
that  she  was  turning  around  to  her  mooring. 
Then  I  heard  them  putting  the  yawl  overboard. 
Lights  were  breaking  out  of  some  of  the  fish-house 
windows,  and  lanterns  swung  on  the  little  dock, 
and  at  last  I  dimly  saw  the  rowboat  coming.  I 
ran  down  also,  with  Frenchy,  and  met  Stefansson. 

"I  got  all  of  that  stuff  there  was  in  St.  John's," 
he  said,  "and  this  gentleman  is  the  doctor.  We 
hunted  high  and  low  for  a  nurse  but  couldn't  get 
one  right  off." 

But  what  cared  I  for  nurses  just  then*?  Was 
I  not  ready  to  do  all  that  a  woman  possibly  could? 
Was  there  a  nurse  in  the  world  as  ready  as  I  to  lay 
down  her  very  life  for  her  patient? 

I  seized  the  doctor's  hand.  I  had  never  been 
so  glad  in  all  my  life  to  see  any  one.  He  looked 
just  like  a  big  boy,  but  he  represented  renewed 
hope,  the  possibility  of  the  achievement  of  a  long- 
ing so  shrewd  that  it  was  a  bitter  pain  to  endure 
it. 

"You  are  going  to  help  us  save  him !"  I  cried. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  351 

"I  will  most  gladly  do  all  I  possibly  can,"  he 
answered,  very  simply  and  quietly. 

These  doctors  are  really  very  nice  people,  Aunt 
Jennie  dear.  They  speak  to  you  so  hopefully, 
and  there  seems  to  be  something  in  them  that 
makes  you  feel  that  you  want  to  lean  upon  them 
and  trust  them. 

When  I  had  a  better  look  at  this  one  he  ap- 
peared to  be  really  very  young,  and  perhaps  just 
a  little  gawky,  and  he  wore  the  most  appreciably 
store-clothes,  and  the  funniest  little  black  string 
of  a  neck- tie.  Isn't  it  queer  that  silly  things 
should  enter  one's  head  at  such  times?  But  he 
looked  like  a  fine,  strong,  honest  boy,  and  I  liked 
him  for  coming,  and  when  he  smiled  at  me  I 
really  thought  he  had  a  very  nice  face,  and  one 
that  gave  one  the  impression  that  he  knew  things, 
too. 

"Please  hurry,"  I  said.  "Come  with  me  quick. 
Dr.  Grant  is  dying,  you  know.  I  am  sure  he  is 
dying,  but  perhaps  those  things  you  have  brought 
will  make  him  well  again." 

"I  hope  so,"  answered  that  doctor  boy,  and  to- 
gether we  ran  up  the  path  to  that  poor  little  hut 


352  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

that  holds  all  the  world  for  me,  perhaps  a  dying 
world,  like  those  I  have  been  told  are  fading  away 
in  the  heavens. 

He  wasn't  a  bit  out  of  breath,  though  I  was 
panting  when  we  reached  the  shack.  He  cast  a 
quick  look  about  him,  and  just  nodded  briskly  to 
Mr.  Barnett,  like  a  man  who  has  no  leisure  for 
small  talk.  He  first  went  up  to  the  little  boy's 
bed,  and  looked  at  the  parson,  enquiringly. 

"He's  getting  better,"  said  the  latter. 

At  once  the  new  doctor  turned  away  and  stood 
by  John's  bed.  I  must  say  John  now,  Auntie 
dear,  just  when  you  and  I  are  talking  together. 
Perhaps  it  will  only  be  for  a  few  hours,  or  a  day 
or  two,  that  he  can  be  John  to  me,  in  my  heart 
and  soul,  for  after  that  he  may  be  only  a  memory, 
a  killing  one,  as  I  feel  now. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  there,  immobile,  look- 
ing at  John,  noting  that  awful  grey  color,  and 
the  rapid,  hard  breathing  that  sometimes  comes  in 
little  sobs.  And  then  he  felt  the  pulse,  coolly, 
and  counted  the  respirations,  in  so  calm  a  way 
that  I  began  to  feel  like  shrieking  to  him  to  do 
something.  But  all  this  really  took  but  a  very 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  353 

short  time.  He  went  to  the  little  table,  on  which 
a  lamp  was  burning,  rather  dimly,  and  opened  the 
package  which  contained  all  those  vials  they  had 
brought  from  St.  John's.  Captain  Sammy  had 
just  come  in,  and  stood  near  the  door,  and  he 
sought  my  eyes  for  some  message  of  comfort,  but 
I  could  only  shake  my  head  sadly. 

"This  lamp  gives  a  very  poor  light,"  said  Dr. 
Johnson. 

At  once  the  old  man  leaped  out  and  sprinted 
towards  the  nearest  neighbor's.  There  he  dashed 
in,  seized  the  lamp  around  which  the  family  sat 
at  their  evening  meal,  and  rushed  out  again,  leav- 
ing them  in  total  darkness.  Of  course  it  went  out 
in  the  wind  and  had  to  be  lighted  again,  and  I 
noticed  that  the  young  doctor  gave  a  calm,  curious 
glance  at  me,  and  Frenchy,  and  that  his  eyes 
swiftly  took  in  all  of  the  poor,  sordid,  little  place. 

I  stood  in  a  corner,  out  of  the  way,  for  now  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  was  of  very  little  moment. 
This  man  was  going  to  do  everything  that  really 
mattered,  and  I  would  only  sit  by  the  bed,  after- 
wards, and  watch,  and  try  and  do  things  to  help. 

Dr.  Johnson  filled  a  syringe  with  the  antitoxine 


354  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

and  injected  the  stuff  in  Dr.  Grant's  arm,  which 
looked  awfully  white,  and  then  he  turned  to  me. 

"You  need  not  stay  any  longer,  Miss  JellifTe," 
he  said,  civilly.  "I  shall  watch  him  all  night." 

"You  are  not  going  to  drive  me  away*?"  I  cried. 

Then  he  looked  at  me  again,  curiously,  and 
there  was  a  tiny  little  nod  of  his  head,  as  if  he  had 
just  understood  something,  after  which  he  took 
the  poor  little  chair  and  pushed  it  near  the  bed. 

"Won't  you  sit  down1?"  he  said,  so  gently  that 
my  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  again  everything 
was  blurred  as  I  blundered  to  the  seat. 

He  did  some  other  things,  and  mixed  medicines 
that  he  took  out  of  a  black  bag,  and  made  John 
take  some.  After  this  he  sat  down  on  a  wooden 
box,  near  me,  and  watched  in  silence,  and  I  felt 
that  he  was  a  friend.  Mr.  Barnett  left,  promis- 
ing to  return  soon,  and  we  remained  there,  lis- 
tening to  the  quick  breathing,  and  dully  hearing 
the  long,  low  booming  of  the  great  waves  outside, 
till  I  fancied  they  were  saying  things  to  me,  which 
I  could  not  understand. 

After  a  time  Susie  came  in. 

"Yer  father  says  won't  you  please  come  in  an' 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  355 

have  yer  supper,"  she  said.  "I  knows  ye'd  rather 
stay  here,  but  there  ain't  no  jobs  folks  kin  do  bet- 
ter starvin'  than  when  they's  had  their  grub.  An' 
th'  poor  dear  man  wants  yer  that  bad  it  makes  me 
feel  sorry  fer  him." 

"You  ought  to  go  and  have  something  to  eat, 
and  rest  a  little,  Miss  Jelliffe,"  said  the  doctor. 
"This  young  person  appears  to  have  some  rather 
sensible  ideas,  and  you  can  return  whenever  you 
want  to." 

So  I  rose,  because  it  wasn't  fair  to  poor  old  Dad 
to  leave  him  alone  all  the  time.  Of  course  it  was 
hurting  me  to  leave,  but  it  would  also  have  hurt  to 
think  that  he  would  be  having  his  supper  all 
alone,  so  sadly. 

"You  will  let  me  know  if  .  .  ." 

"Of  course  I  will,"  interrupted  the  doctor  boy. 
"You  may  depend  on  me.  I'll  send  the  big  chap 
here  over,  if  there  is  any  change." 

"You  are  very  good,"  I  said.  "I  think — I 
think  you  are  a  very  nice  doctor." 

To  my  surprise  he  blushed  just  a  little. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "Thank  you  very 
much." 


356  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

There  was  a  smile  on  his  face,  and  I  think  I 
managed  to  smile  a  little  too,  and  then  I  went 
off  with  Susie. 

"They  is  some  o'  th'  old  women  as  tells  about 
love  medicines  as  can  make  folks  jist  crazy  fer 
one  another,"  she  said,  as  we  walked  away, 
rapidly.  "Seems  ter  me  'twould  be  good  enough 
if  some  o'  them  doctors  found  out  some  drug  as 
worked  t'other  way.  This  bein'  in  love  is 
harder'n  the  teethache,  an'  is  enough  ter  make  one 
feel  like  hopin'  ter  be  an  old  maid." 

"Perhaps  it  does,  Susie,"  I  assented. 

"Come  in,"  cried  Dad,  as  I  pushed  the  door 
open.  "Glad  to  see  you,  Helen.  I  hope  the  poor 
chap's  better.  I  just  had  Stefansson  up  here,  and 
he  says  that  old  Sammy  tried  his  best  to  drown 
them  all  and  smash  the  yacht  to  kindling.  But 
he  admitted  that  the  way  the  old  fellow  slapped 
her  through  was  a  marvel.  But  next  year  he's 
going  back  to  racing  boats;  says  he's  had  enough 
of  cruising." 

He  looked  at  me,  as  I  sank  wearily  in  a  chair, 
too  tired  to  answer. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  85? 

"What's  the  matter,  daughter?"  he  asked. 
"You  are  not  ill,  are  you*?" 

He  rose  and  came  towards  me,  his  dear  loving 
face  full  of  concern,  and  I  jumped  up  too  and 
kissed  him. 

"That's  my  own  dear  little  girl,"  he  said,  much 
comforted.  "And — and  Helen  dear,  I  don't  sup- 
pose you  will  want  to  sail  to-morrow,  will  you,  or 
in  a  day  or  two1?" 

There  was  something  very  pleading  in  his  voice, 
it  seemed  to  me. 

"Perhaps  in  a  day  or  two  it  won't — it  won't 
matter  much  what  I  shall  do,  Daddy  dear,"  I  an- 
swered. 

He  took  me  and  pressed  me  to  his  breast  and 
I  felt  as  if  many  years  were  passing  away,  and 
I  was  again  the  desolate  little  girl  who  used  to 
come  to  him  with  her  woes,  when  a  kitten  died 
or  a  doll  was  broken.  He  sat  again  in  his  arm- 
chair, and  I  rested  on  the  arm. 

"Let  us  talk  as  in  the  old  days,  girlie,"  he  said. 
"Let  us  be  the  loving  friends  we've  been  all  these 
years.  I  want  to  see  you  happy.  Your  happi- 


358  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

ness  is  the  only  thing  in  the  world  that  really 
concerns  me  now.  To  obtain  it  for  you  I  would 
spend  my  last  cent  and  give  the  last  drop  of  my 
blood.  You  believe  me,  don't  you*?" 

"Indeed  I  do,  Daddy  dear,"  I  answered.  "I 
don't  deserve  such  kindness.  I'm  afraid  I  am  a 
very  selfish  girl." 

"You  haven't  an  atom  of  selfishness  in  you, 
Helen.  You  are  a  woman,  a  true,  strong,  loving 
woman.  We  shall  remain  here  as  long  as  you 
want  to.  Now  that  there  is  another  doctor  here 
I  am  not  so  much  afraid  for  you.  If  Grant 
should — should  not  recover,  your  old  Dad's  love 
may  comfort  you.  And  if,  as  I  earnestly  hope, 
he  does  get  well,  then  come  to  me  and  tell  me 
what  you  want.  It  shall  be  yours,  girlie,  with  all 
my  love.  That's  what  I  wanted  to  say." 

I  slipped  off  the  arm  of  the  chair,  and  sat  down 
at  his  feet,  looking  up  at  him,  through  the  blur 
that  was  in  my  eyes. 

"I — I  hardly  dare  hope  he  will  get  well, 
Daddy,"  I  said,  "and — and  I  don't  know  yet 
whether  he  loves  me  or  not.  This  evening,  in  his 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  359 

delirium,  he  called  me  his  darling,  but  never  be- 
fore this  has  he  ever  said  a  word  of  love  to  me. 
He's  just  been  a  friend  to  me,  Daddy,  such  a 
friend!" 

"How  can  he  help  loving  you1?"  said  the  dear 
old  man. 

But  I  did  not  answer,  and  for  a  time  we  re- 
mained in  silence,  watching  the  wood  fire  in  the 
tiny  chimney,  until  Susie  came  in. 

"Th5  kittle's  biled,"  she  announced.  "Me 
cousin  Hyatt  he've  brung  some  meat  off'n  the 
mash,  an'  I  briled  some." 

"I'm  not  very  hungry,  Susie,"  I  told  her. 

"Nor  me  neither,  ma'am,  with  all  them  goin'- 
ons,"  she  confided.  "But  what's  th'  use  o'  de- 
spisin'  any  of  th'  Lord's  blessin's,  specially  when 
they  gits  kinder  scarce*?" 

So  Daddy  and  I  had  our  supper  together,  very 
comfortably,  and  really  I  did  manage  to  eat  a 
little,  because  the  thought  struck  me  that  a  girl 
couldn't  possibly  be  beyond  all  hope  of  comfort 
as  long  as  she  had  such  a  Dad,  and  I  did  my  best 
to  be  brave.  But  soon  after  we  had  finished  I 


360  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

became  very  restless  and  nervous,  and  Dad  looked 
at  me  and  patted  my  hand. 

"I  expect  you'd  better  run  along,  my  dear,"  he 
told  me.  "But  you  must  really  try  to  have  some 
rest  to-night.  If  that  doctor  promised  to  sit  up 
you  might  just  as  well  have  a  little  sleep.  You 
mustn't  be  ill,  you  know,  for  we  all  need  you  too 
much  for  that." 

So  I  kissed  him  and  hurried  back  to  the  shack, 
overtaking  Mr.  Barnett,  who  was  also  going  there. 
Frenchy  met  us  at  the  door. 

"Mebbe  heem  Docteur  no  die  now,  hem! 
Mebbe  heem  leeve  now.  I  think  heem  no  die. 
What  you  think  *?" 

"We  hope  and  pray  he  may  get  well,  my  good 
man,"  answered  the  parson. 

We  went  in,  and  Dr.  Johnson  rose. 

"I  can  see  no  change  as  yet,"  he  said,  "but  then 
it  is  hardly  possible  that  any  should  occur  so  soon. 
At  any  rate  he  is  no  worse." 

So  Mr.  Barnett  and  I  sat  down  by  the  bed,  and 
Dr.  Johnson  went  away  for  some  supper;  I  am 
sure  he  must  have  been  nearly  starving. 

"He's  been  muttering  a  good  deal,"  said  the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  361 

doctor  before  leaving,  "but  that  is  of  no  very  great 
moment.  The  important  thing  .is  to  watch  him 
to  prevent  his  getting  out  of  bed,  if  he  should  be- 
come excitable.  We  must  have  no  undue  strain 
on  his  weakened  heart." 

So  the  little  parson  and  I  sat  quietly  by  the 
patient,  who  appeared  to  be  sleeping,  and  for  a 
long  time  there  was  no  sound  at  all,  and  I  think 
we  dreaded  to  move  lest  the  slightest  noise  might 
rouse  him. 

But  after  a  time,  so  suddenly  that  it  startled 
me,  came  the  hoarse,  low  voice  that  was  so  painful 
to  hear,  and  I  bent  further  forward  to  listen.  At 
first  the  words  were  disconnected,  with  queer  in- 
terruptions, so  that  they  possessed  no  meaning, 
but  presently  I  was  listening,  breathlessly.  He 
appeared  to  be  giving  orders. 

"You,  Sammy,  cast  away  the  lines!  Look 
lively  there!  Time,  time,  time!"  he  muttered. 
Then  he  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  something  and 
began  again. 

"I  told  you  to  be  ready!  The  years,  do  you 
hear  me1?  You  are  wasting  the  years.  She's 
good  for  sixty  miles  an  hour  and  it  will  take  forty 


362  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

million  years  to  reach  the  nearest  star,  where 
Helen  waits.  Can't  make  it,  you  say?  Don't 
I  see  her  beckoning !" 

Then  he  turned  his  head,  slightly,  as  if  he  were 
addressing  some  one  very  near. 

"One  has  to  have  patience,"  he  said.  "They 
don't  understand,  and  their  fingers  are  all  thumbs, 
and  the  hawser  is  fouling  my  propeller,  and 
Helen  calls,  and — and  I  can  do  nothing." 

His  head,  that  had  been  slightly  uplifted,  fell 
back  again,  and  two  great  drops  gathered  in  the 
dark,  sunken  eyes  and  slowly  ran  down  the  hol- 
lowed cheeks. 

Mr.  Barnett  turned  to  me.  In  his  eyes  there 
was  a  strange  look  of  apprehension,  as  when  one 
awaits  yet  fears  an  answer.  But  there  was 
nothing  that  I  could  say  to  him.  My  heart  was 
beating  as  though  ready  to  burst.  I  cared  noth- 
ing then  for  the  little  man  who  stared  at  me,  and 
sank  on  my  knees  beside  my  poor  unconscious 
John,  lifting  his  limp  hand  to  my  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

[From  Miss  Helen  Jelliffe  to 
Miss  Jane  Van  Zandt 

Aunt  Jennie -,  darling: 

Isn't  the  world  just  the  most  wonderful  place"? 
No  one  knows  it  at  all  until  after  it  has  played 
battledore  and  shuttlecock  with  them,  and  they 
have  been  tossed  to  and  fro  for  a  long  time. 
Weren't  those  old  Persians  wonderful  people? 
Of  course  they  had  no  means  of  knowing  the  real 
truth  but  it  surely  was  the  next  thing  to  it  to 
worship  the  dear  sun.  It  goes  away  and  leaves 
things  dark  and  dismal,  and  there  may  be  hail 
and  sleet  and  rain,  and  the  outlook  is  all  dark, 
but  presently  the  clouds  move  and  the  fog  blows 
away  and  the  path  of  light  twinkles  over  the  big 
ocean  and  the  very  grasses  of  the  hillsides  perk 
up  and  the  birds  try  to  split  their  little  throats 
with  song.  They  are  all  sun-worshippers. 

Of  course  you  want  to  know  at  once  how  it  all 

363 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

came  about.  I  am  still  shaky  and  uncertain,  as 
if  I  had  just  been  awakened.  Sometimes  I 
hardly  believe  that  it  is  the  real  truth  that  I 
behold,  but  merely  some  vision  that  must  pass 
away  like  the  gold  and  the  crimson  of  the  fading 
day. 

John  is  getting  well!  I  feel  that  I  want  to 
shout  it  farther  than  the  voice  of  man  ever  carried 
before.  I  wish  that  wonderful  Marconi  could  set 
all  these  little  waves  he  makes  in  the  air  to  vibra- 
ting at  once  and  carry  over  the  whole  world  the 
tidings  that  my  John  is  going  to  live !  Of  course 
there  were  a  few  very  dreadful  days,  and  some 
nights  that  were  agony,  and  that  nice  little  doctor 
lost  his  red  cheeks  and  looked  pale  and  wan,  and 
of  course  I  was  very,  very  tired.  That  dear  Mrs. 
Barnett  or  her  husband  were  always  with  me,  and 
no  one  could  ever  make  Frenchy  leave  the  place 
for  a  minute,  and  old  Sammy  hovered  around 
constantly.  The  people  walked  about  the  tiny 
village  as  if  it  had  been  a  town  smitten  by  a  great 
pestilence,  as  used  to  happen  in  those  old  dark 
ages.  There  have  been  no  more  cases,  because 
the  doctor  has  injected  some  of  that  stuff  in  the 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  365 

arms  of  all  who  had  been  in  the  slightest  degree 
exposed,  and  it  doesn't  hurt  very  much,  Aunt 
Jennie. 

But  the  amazing  day  was  the  one  upon  which 
I  arose,  before  dawn,  because  they  had  just  forced 
me  to  go  to  bed  the  night  before,  and  I  hurried 
down  to  Frenchy's,  in  the  keen  cold  air,  and  met 
Dr.  Johnson  who  was  quietly  pacing  the  road  and 
smoking  his  pipe,  which  must  have  been  very  bad 
for  him  so  early  in  the  morning.  But  then  I 
think  we  have  all  lost  count  of  hours.  When 
he  heard  my  steps  he  turned  quickly,  and  his 
cheeks  looked  quite  pink  again,  perhaps  owing 
to  the  cold,  and  his  eyes  were  just  as  bright  as 
bright  could  be,  and  he  just  ran  towards  me.  I 
think  my  hands  began  to  shake,  for  I  had  lost  all 
memory  of  what  a  happy  face  looked  like,  I  think, 
and  the  sight  of  his  was  like  something  that 
strikes  one  full  in  the  chest  and  takes  one's  breath 
away. 

He  just  grabbed  both  my  hands,  because  he 
is  such  a  nice  friendly  boy. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  ..."  I  began,  but 
he  interrupted  me. 


366  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

"Indeed  I  certainly  do,"  he  answered,  speaking 
ever  so  quickly.  "You  had  not  been  gone  for 
more  than  a  couple  of  hours  when  he  opened  his 
eyes  and  looked  at  me,  very  much  puzzled,  and 
made  a  little  effort  to  rise,  which  of  course  I 
checked  at  once,  though  his  pulse  and  temperature 
had  gone  down,  and  he  looked  a  lot  better. 

"  'You  just  keep  still,  old  man,'  I  told  him. 
'Now  is  just  the  time  to  look  out  for  sudden  heart 
failure,  so  you  must  keep  still,  and  have  a  good 
swig  of  this  stuff,  and  try  and  have  a  nap. 
You've  given  us  a  proper  scare,  I  can  tell  you,  but 
now  you're  right  side  up.' 

"And  would  you  believe  it,  Miss  Jelliffe,  that 
big  Frenchman  jumped  off  his  bunk  and  stared 
at  him,  and  then  he  grabbed  me  and  kissed  me  on 
both  cheeks  as  if  I'd  been  another  blessed  frog- 
eater,  and  I  wanted  to  punch  his  nose  but  com- 
promised by  shaking  hands  instead.  I  could  just 
have  danced  a  hornpipe.  And  by  this  time  Dr. 
Grant  has  taken  a  whole  lot  of  nourishment,  and 
got  a  good  deal  of  real  sleep  during  the  night, 
and  now  he's  behaving  first-rate.  I  left  Frenchy 
sitting  near  him,  a  short  time  ago,  and  came  out 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  367 

to  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace  with  all  the  world." 

"You  have  saved  him !"  I  cried. 

"Well,  we've  all  helped,"  he  said.  "It  really 
looks  now  as  if  he  were  quite  out  of  danger,  be- 
cause there  is  an  immense  change  for  the  better, 
and  that's  a  whole  lot.  I'll  just  take  a  peep  in 
now  to  see  if  he's  awake,  because  we  mustn't  dis- 
turb him  if  he  isn't." 

He  left  me  standing  in  front  of  the  poor  little 
building,  within  whose  walls  we  all  had  spent 
such  terrible  hours,  and  went  in  on  tiptoe. 
Frenchy  came  out  in  his  stocking-feet,  the  most 
disheveled  man  you  ever  saw,  and  suddenly  I  felt 
as  if  I  were  about  to  fall,  in  spite  of  the  joy  his 
eyes  betrayed,  and  I  grasped  his  big,  hairy  arm. 
But  I  felt  better  in  a  moment.  The  immense 
newborn  sun  was  rising  out  of  the  waters,  a  huge, 
great,  blood-hued  thing,  and  the  sky  was  aflame  at 
last  after  the  awful,  somber  days,  and  seemed  to 
burst  out  with  tidings  of  great  joy,  like  that 
wondrous  star  in  the  East. 

And  then  the  little  parson  came  trotting  down 
the  road,  for  he  is  the  most  active  little  man  you 
ever  saw,  and  when  he  looked  into  our  faces  he 


868 

stretched  out  his  hands,  and  we  grasped  them  hap- 
pily. 

"Oh!  Mr.  Barnett,"  I  told  him.  "Indeed,  it 
seems  too  good  to  be  true." 

"Dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  "nothing  is  ever 
too  good  to  be  true." 

He  was  looking  far  away  at  the  flaming  sky, 
as  if  beyond  it  he  had  been  able  to  discern  some 
wonderful  vision.  He  surely  believes  in  infinite 
goodness,  Aunt  Jennie.  His  whole  life  is  based 
upon  his  trust  in  it,  and  it  is  very  beautiful.  His 
words  carried  with  them  a  world  of  hope,  and  sud- 
denly I  felt  as  if  some  great  blessing  were  perhaps 
hovering  above,  like  the  big,  circling  sea-birds, 
and  might  descend  to  me. 

Then  Dr.  Johnson  came  out  and  greeted  the 
little  parson,  who  has  taken  a  great  liking  to  him. 
Despite  the  great,  dark  circles  around  his  eyes, 
strained  as  they  had  been  by  so  many  weary  hours 
of  watching,  the  young  man's  face  was  merry  and 
boyish,  for  all  that  it  gives  promise  of  splendid 
manliness,  and  it  was  good  to  see.  As  he  came 
to  us  his  steps  showed  no  signs  of  the  fatigue  he 
must  have  felt. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  369 

"He's  awake,"  he  announced.  "He  must  have 
a  great  deal  of  rest  and  quiet  just  now,  but  I  am 
sure  your  presence  would  give  him  pleasure,  Miss 
Jelliffe.  You  won't  let  him  talk  very  much,  will 
you?" 

"No,"  I  promised,  and  could  find  no  other 
words. 

I  moved  towards  the  door,  slowly,  expecting 
the  others  to  follow  me,  but  they  never  stirred. 
It  was  as  if  by  some  common  consent  they  had 
acknowledged  some  right  of  mine  to  enter  alone. 
Suddenly  my  limbs  began  to  drag  under  me,  as 
if  I  had  been  a  tottering,  old  woman.  I  wondered 
what  his  first  look  would  say  to  me,  what  the 
first  word  from  his  lips  would  portend*?  It 
seemed  as  if  I  were  going  in  there  like  one  who 
sought  some  hidden  treasure,  knowing  which  door 
it  lay  behind  but  stricken  with  fear  lest  some  un- 
seen Cerberus  might  be  crouching  in  wait  for  the 
rash  seeker  after  happiness.  Oh!  Aunt  Jennie! 
The  tenseness  of  that  moment !  The  feeling  that, 
like  the  Snowbird  a  few  days  ago,  I  was  moving 
through  a  fog-hidden  world  of  peril ! 

My  nails  were  dug  into  the  palms  of  my  hands 


370  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

as  I  entered  the  shack,  and  his  head  turned  slowly 
as  I  came  in,  and  in  his  eyes  I  saw  the  confession 
his  babbling  had  revealed  to  me.  But  then  an 
expression  of  pain  came  also,  that  made  me  in- 
voluntarily look  at  Frenchy's  little  crucifix  on  the 
wall. 

So  I  just  kneeled  down  by  him,  and  once  more 
took  that  poor  thin  hand  within  my  own.  I  spoke 
very  low,  and  in  such  a  shaky  voice,  but  very 
quick,  for  fear  I  might  not  be  able  to  continue. 

"Don't  give  up  hope,"  I  said.  "We  despaired 
for  so  many  long  days,  and  now  you  are  getting 
well  again,  and  the  dear  sun  is  rising  from  the 
mists,  and  the  world  is  very  beautiful,  and  I  long 
to  make  it  more  beautiful  for  you." 

I  saw  two  big  tears  gathering  in  the  corners 
of  the  poor  sunken  eyes,  and  the  long  white  hand 
pressed  mine,  weakly,  and  that  mark  of  the  pangs 
of  the  crucified  passed  away. 

"You  must  lie  very  still,"  I  continued,  "and 
let  us  make  you  well  and  strong  again,  for  you've 
made  dear  Sweetapple  Cove  now,  after  being 
nearly  'ketched'  by  those  dreadful  seas,  and  I 
know  that  our  little  ship  is  coming  safely  to  port." 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  371 

For  a  moment  he  could  only  close  his  eyes,  as 
if  the  poor,  little,  dawning  light  that  was  begin- 
ning to  come  through  the  windows  had  been  too 
bright  for  him,  but  his  hand  pressed  mine  again. 
Then  he  looked  at  me  once  more,  eagerly,  as  if  he 
longed  for  other  words  of  mine. 

"No,"  I  said.  "One  mustn't  talk  too  much 
to  people  who  have  been  so  dreadfully  ill,  and 
really  I  can  say  nothing  more  now.  Indeed  I 
have  said  all  I  could,  because  a  woman  can't  let 
her  happiness  fly  away  on  account  of — of  people 
who  are  too  proud  to  speak,  but — but  you  can 
whisper  a  word  or  two." 

There  were  three  of  them  that  came  from  his 
lips,  those  three  thrilling  words  I  had  despaired 
of  ever  hearing  from  him. 

"And  I  also  love  you,  John,  with  all  my  heart 
and  soul,"  I  answered. 

Then  we  were  very  still  for  some  time,  and 
presently  some  one  coughed  rather  hard  outside, 
and  fumbled  with  the  door,  and  the  nice  doctor 
boy  came  in. 

"I  mustn't  allow  you  people  to  talk  too  long," 
he  said.  "It  is  time  he  had  a  good  drink  of  milk, 


372  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

and  after  that  he  must  have  some  more  sleep,  and 
we'll  have  him  topside  up  in  no  time." 

Then  Mr.  Barnett  came  in  too,  but  he  never 
said  a  word.  There  was  just  a  glance,  a  pressure 
of  hands,  and  that  was  all,  but  it  seemed  to  mean 
ever  so  much  to  them. 

So  after  a  short  time  I  went  away,  and  the 
bright  sun  was  streaming  down  upon  our  poor, 
little,  smelly  Sweetapple  Cove,  that  was  really 
like  a  corner  of  Paradise. 

And  now,  Aunt  Jennie,  several  more  days  have 
gone  by,  and  John  is  getting  stronger  and  stronger 
every  hour. 

Yesterday,  for  the  first  time,  he  sat  up  in  a 
long  deck  chair  that  had  been  brought  up  from 
the  Snowbird.,  and  I  sat  beside  him,  with  my  knit- 
ting, which  was  only  a  pretence,  for  it  lay  on  my 
lap,  idly.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  a  million 
things  to  talk  about,  but  when  I  spoke  he  an- 
swered in  brief  little  weary  words,  so  that  I  be- 
came afraid  I  might  tire  him.  There  is  no  porch 
to  the  little  house,  so  he  sat  indoors  in  front  of 
the  widely  opened  door,  whence  he  could  see  the 
cove,  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  flakes 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  373 

covered  with  the  silver-grey  fish  that  were  dry- 
ing. 

We  remained  in  silence  for  a  long  time,  and  my 
hand  rested  on  his,  that  was  stretched  out  on  the 
arm  of  the  chair.  Then  he  turned  to  me. 

"Dearest,"  he  said,  "I  am  but  sorry  company 
for  you,  after  all  these  days  of  devoted  attention 
on  your  part." 

"You  are  my  own  dear  John,"  I  answered.  "I 
wish — I  wish  I  knew  that  you  were  as  happy  as 
I." 

"Listen,  Helen,"  he  said.  "There  is  something 
that  you  must  know." 

And  then,  slowly,  he  told  me  a  tale  that  began 
with  his  boyhood.  There  was  a  little  girl,  and  he 
was  very  fond  of  her,  and  many  times  he  told  her 
she  must  be  his  little  wife.  And  always  she  as- 
sented, so  that  gradually,  as  the  years  went  by, 
it  had  become  a  habit  of  his  mind  to  think  of  the 
days  to  come,  when  they  would  be  married.  Then 
he  had  gone  away  to  a  little  college.  When  he 
returned  for  the  holidays  he  always  saw  her  again, 
but  when  he  spoke  of  marrying  her  she  blushed, 
and  was  timid,  for  she  was  passing  away  from 


374*  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

childhood.  In  later  days  he  saw  less  of  her,  but 
he  always  wrote  long  letters  to  his  little  comrade. 
After  a  few  years  he  went  abroad  to  study,  but 
they  corresponded  often,  telling  of  their  plans  and 
ambitions.  One  day  he  heard  that  she  was  going 
to  New  York  to  become  a  trained  nurse,  and  he 
had  finished  his  work  abroad,  so  he  took  a  steamer 
and  went  there  too.  On  the  days  when  she  was 
at  liberty  for  a  few  hours  he  met  her,  and  those 
ideas  of  his  boyhood  became  stronger  than  ever, 
and  he  asked  her  to  marry  him.  Her  reply  was 
that  they  were  too  young  yet  and  that  they  must 
wait,  for  she  had  no  idea  of  becoming  married 
for  the  present,  because  there  were  many  things 
she  wanted  to  do,  and  while  she  was  ever  so  fond 
of  him  as  a  friend  she  did  not  think  she  loved 
him,  though  some  day  she  might.  But  he  had 
always  thought  it  would  be  just  a  matter  of  time, 
for  he  had  considered  it  a  settled  thing.  Then 
he  had  come  to  Sweetapple  Cove,  and  written  to 
her  often,  for  he  expected  her  to  return  to  New- 
foundland soon.  Her  letters  came  rather  seldom, 
for  she  was  working  very  hard. 

"And  now,  when  she  comes,"  he  continued,  "I 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  375 

shall  have  to  tell  her  it  was  all  a  ghastly  mistake 
on  my  part.  I  shall  have  to  tell  her  the  truth, 
brutally,  frankly.  I  will  have  to  say  that  I  really 
never  loved  her;  that  it  was  a  boy's  idea  that  con- 
tinued into  a  man's  thoughts,  until  one  day  he 
realized  that  he  loved  another  woman." 

"But  she  really  never  loved  you,  John,"  I  ex- 
claimed. "If  she  had  she  never  would  have  al- 
lowed you  to  go  away." 

"I  hope  to  God  she  never  did!"  he  exclaimed. 
"But  in  those  old  days  I  asked  her  to  be  my  wife, 
and  I  told  her  I  would  wait  for  her.  And  she 
has  always  been  very  fond  of  me,  at  least  as  a 
good  friend,  and — and — who  knows*?  I  hate 
the  idea  that  I  must  perhaps  inflict  pain  upon  her, 
some  day." 

But  I  shook  my  head,  obstinately. 

"No,  she  never  loved  you,"  I  insisted.  "I 
know  now  how  people  love.  It  is  a  desire  to 
cling  to  one,  to  be  ever  with  him,  to  share  with 
him  toil,  and  pain,  and  hunger,  joyfully,  happily, 
for  all  the  days  and  days  to  come.  And  when 
you  have  to  leave  me  I  shall  be  restless  and  nerv- 
ous, like  that  poor  dear  Mrs.  Barnett,  until  you 


376  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

come  back  and  I  can  be  glad  again.     Oh!  John! 
That  girl  never  loved  you!" 

Just  then  the  little  parson's  wife  came  up,  smil- 
ingly as  ever. 

"Are  you  two  having  lover's  quarrels  already*?" 
she  asked. 

"No,"  I  answered,  "I  was  explaining  to  him 
that  no  other  woman  ever  could — or — or  ever 
would  .  .  ." 

"Oh!  My  dear,"  she  interrupted,  "the  ex- 
planation of  obvious  things  is  one  of  the  most 
delightful  privileges  of  the  engaged  state,  and  I 
won't  interrupt  you  any  more.  I'm  going  to  see 
the  new  Burton  baby,  and,  by  the  way,  here  is  a 
lot  of  stuff  for  Dr.  Grant,  that  has  been  accumulat- 
ing. I  suppose  he  may  be  allowed  to  show  a  faint 
interest  in  his  mail,  at  least  after  his  nurse  leaves 
him.  Good-by,  you  dear  children." 

She  put  a  large  bundle  of  papers  and  letters 
in  John's  lap,  and  went  away,  waving  her  hand 
cheerily.  John  didn't  pay  the  slightest  attention 
to  his  correspondence  at  first,  for  we  began  to 
discuss  some  plans  we  were  making  for  a  little 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  377 

house,  but  after  a  few  moments  he  idly  turned 
over  the  medical  papers,  and  the  pamphlets  and 
circulars,  and  suddenly  his  eyes  fell  on  a  letter, 
that  was  addressed  in  big  bold  characters. 

I  knew  at  once  that  it  was  from  that  girl,  and 
a  little  shudder  came  over  me.  I  rose  and  walked 
away  towards  Frenchy's  child,  who  was  now  well 
and  playing  with  a  long-suffering  woolly  pup, 
and  began  to  talk  to  him.  But  all  the  time  I  was 
watching  and  listening.  I  suppose  one  can't  help 
doing  such  things.  Then  I  heard  him  calling  me, 
and  I  hurried  back. 

He  held  the  letter  out  to  me. 

"Read  it,  Helen?"  he  asked  me. 

"Please,"  I  said,  "just  tell  me  about  it.  It  is 
her  own  letter,  John,  and  meant  for  you  only." 

"She  tells  me  I  have  been  the  best  friend  a  girl 
ever  had,  and  that  if  she  gives  me  pain  it  will  not 
be  without  a  pang  on  her  own  part.  She  says 
that  the  object  of  her  being  on  earth  is  now  re- 
vealed to  her." 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "and  then  .  .  ." 

"Then  she  announces  her  coming  marriage  with 


378  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

Dr.  Farquhar,  the  man  who  has  been  in  charge 
of  the  medical  work  of  the  Settlement." 

"You  must  write  and  tell  her  how  happy  you 
are  to  hear  the  good  news,  John,  and  you  must 
tell  her  our  plans.  And  I  want  to  talk  very 
seriously  to  you,  John." 

"What  is  it,  dear?'  he  asked. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  want  to  say  that  you  have 
been  very  bad,  because  you  didn't  believe  me,  or 
you  only  believed  a  little  bit,  when  I  told  you  she 
didn't  love  you.  Now  I  expect  you  to  have  a 
great  deal  of  respect  for  my  opinions,  in  future." 

He  promised,  and  said  I  was  perfectly  wonder- 
ful, and  that  he  was  the  happiest  man  in  the 
world.  And  then,  Aunt  Jennie,  we  sat  again  ever 
so  long  without  saying  more  than  a  few  words. 
And  the  stillness  was  like  bars  of  a  wonderful 
music  whose  notes  one  can't  remember  but  which 
leaves  in  one's  heart  an  impression  of  glorious 
melody.  One  can't  write  of  such  things,  for  I  am 
sure  that  ink  never  flowed  from  a  pen  able  really 
to  describe  that  which  lies  in  the  hearts  of  men 
and  women  at  such  times. 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  379 

And  then  Daddy  came,  smiling  all  over,  for  he 
spoke  the  truth  indeed  when  he  said  my  happiness 
was  his  only  concern.  He's  the  dearest  Daddy  in 
all  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

[Dr.  Johnson  to  Mrs.  Charlotte  Johnson 

Dearest  Mother: 

You  will  rejoice  to  know  that  your  son  is  now 
a  happy  man.  At  one  time  the  wrecking  of  the 
old  Chandernagore  bade  fair  to  make  me  despair 
of  ever  being  able  to  justify  the  sacrifices  you 
underwent  to  help  me  with  my  education.  And 
now  things  look  so  bright  and  splendid  that  I  can 
scarcely  believe  the  marvelous  luck  that  has  be- 
fallen me. 

Dr.  Grant  is  strong  and  well  again.  He  is  a 
fine  fellow  who  has  been  doing  great  work  in  this 
place,  and  I  have  actually  been  chosen  to  con- 
tinue it  during  his  absence  of  a  few  months.  Mr. 
Jelliffe  and  he  sent  for  me,  a  few  days  ago,  after 
I  returned  from  a  trip  to  a  near  outport  to  see  a 
sick  woman,  and  asked  me  if  I  were  willing  to 
undertake  it.  They  also  said  that  they  were  about 
to  build  a  small  hospital  here,  and  that  there 

380 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  381 

would  doubtless  be  work  enough  for  two  men  dur- 
ing most  of  the  year.  They  offered  me  a  steady 
compensation  sufficient  to  mean  surcease  from 
worry  and  an  opportunity  to  take  a  little  care  of 
you  at  last.  And  the  best  part  of  it  all  lies  in  the 
character  of  the  work,  which  is  a  fine  one,  and  in 
the  delightful  people  I  shall  be  associated  with. 
Mrs.  Barnett  is  a  woman  whom  you  would  dearly 
love,  and  her  husband  is  of  the  pick  of  men.  Dr. 
Grant  will  spend  the  greater  part  of  the  year  here, 
and  Sweetapple  Cove  is  bustling  with  the  changes 
that  are  taking  place.  A  big  schooner-load  of 
lumber  has  just  arrived,  with  a  few  workmen,  to 
begin  at  once  rearing  the  new  hospital  and  the 
house  the  Grants  are  to  build  for  themselves. 

I  am  alone  now,  for  the  beautiful  Snowbird  has 
gone  away,  followed  by  fervent  wishes  for  her 
safe  journey  home. 

Very  early  yesterday  little  two-masted  smacks 
began  to  arrive  from  neighboring  outports,  and 
the  tiny  harbor  was  crowded  with  them.  They 
fluttered  out  all  their  poor  little  bits  of  bunting, 
gaily,  and  the  visitors  wore  their  best  clothes. 
I  doubt  if  so  great  a  holiday  ever  took  place  be- 


382  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

fore  in  this  part  of  the  island.  The  Snowbird ', 
from  bowsprit  to  topmasts,  and  down  again  to  the 
end  of  the  long  main-boom,  was  bright  with  wav- 
ing signals  and  pennants. 

The  people  were  crowding  on  the  little  road, 
to  see  the  bride  come  forth  on  the  arm  of  her 
father.  Visions  had  come  to  me  of  her  all  in 
white,  as  all  brides  were  clad  whom  I  have  ever 
seen  before.  But  she  appeared  in  her  garments 
of  every  day,  as  if  she  needed  no  finery  to  make 
her  more  beautiful  in  the  eyes  of  all.  You 
should  have  seen  her,  little  mother!  A  wonder- 
ful woman  indeed,  straight  and  fairly  tall,  with 
frank,  friendly  eyes  that  always  look  straight  at 
one.  Her  voice  has  also  notes  that  can  be  of  ex- 
quisite tenderness,  as  I  heard  them  in  that  poor 
little  hut  of  Frenchy's.  Her  hair  is  a  great,  fine, 
chestnut  mass  in  which  are  blended  the  most  per- 
fect hues  of  auburns  and  rich  browns.  And 
withal  she  is  exquisitely  simple  in  her  manner, 
utterly  unaffected,  and  her  laughter  carries  joy 
with  it  into  the  hearts  of  others.  The  people 
here  simply  adore  her,  from  the  youngest  child  to 
the  most  tottering  old  dame.  And  I  am  sure  they 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  383 

love  her  not  only  for  herself  but  also  in  gratitude 
for  the  happiness  she  is  bestowing  upon  a  man 
who  has  long  ago  made  his  way  into  their  hearts. 

She  had  insisted  upon  being  married  in  this 
humble  village,  among  the  fishermen  who  had 
learnt  to  cherish  her  and  her  husband-to-be,  and 
when  we  reached  the  little  church  it  was  already 
full  to  overflowing.  People  stood  on  tiptoe  at 
the  open  windows,  and  crowded  at  the  door.  We 
all  stood  when  she  arrived  with  Mr.  Jelliffe,  and 
she  walked  to  the  little  altar  with  smiles  and 
friendly  nods  to  all. 

And  then  the  service  began,  and  Mr.  Barnett 
was  manifestly  pale  with  emotion.  At  first  his 
voice  was  just  the  least  bit  husky,  but  soon  it 
cleared  as  the  majestic  words  fell  from  his  lips. 

I  sat  near  Mrs.  Barnett,  who  wept  a  little. 
I  could  understand  this,  mother,  for  there  was 
something  that  moved  one's  heart  in  the  beholding 
of  that  man  and  that  woman,  who  had  never  given 
others  ought  but  the  best  of  themselves,  prepar- 
ing to  continue  hand  in  hand  to  make  the  world 
more  beautiful  for  others. 

It  was  over  very  soon  and  the  two  walked  down 


384*  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

the  aisle.  Old  Sammy  rushed  out  and  waved  his 
arms  frantically  towards  the  cove,  whereupon  the 
little  brass  gun  boomed  and  the  flag  saluted,  as  if 
the  Snowbird  also  thrilled  with  the  general  re- 
joicing. 

Dr.  Grant  and  his  wife  stepped  out  into  the 
road,  which  passes  by  the  door  of  the  little  church. 
The  wedding  reception  was  held  there,  for  the 
Cove  has  no  walls  capable  of  holding  all  their 
friends.  Mrs.  Barnett,  who  had  come  out  upon 
my  arm,  was  the  first  to  kiss  the  bride,  but  other 
women  were  thus  favored,  even  poor  decrepit 
old  things  in  whose  houses  she  had  carried  the 
sunshine  of  her  presence. 

Susie  Sweetapple,  worthy  descendant  of  the 
earliest  settler,  stood  modestly  to  one  side,  with  a 
very  red  nose,  for  she  had  been  weeping  copiously. 

"Are  you  not  going  to  kiss  me  also,  Susie*?" 
asked  her  mistress. 

The  little  servant  came  forth,  with  shining  red 
eyes  showing  utmost  delight,  and  was  kissed  af- 
fectionately. When  she  retired,  to  make  room 
for  others,  I  heard  her  speaking  to  her  old  mother. 

"Belike  I'll  not  be  washin'  me  face  fer  a  month 


SWEETAPPLE  COVE  385 

now.  I'll  not  be  wantin'  ter  scrub  that  kiss 
away." 

Then  I  noticed  that  the  bride  was  searching 
the  crowd,  and  appeared  to  be  disappointed  be- 
cause some  one  was  missing.  Finally  she  dis- 
covered that  Frenchman  Yves,  who  watched  so 
endlessly  and  devotedly  for  days  and  days,  and 
beckoned  to  him. 

He  came  forward,  timidly,  and  the  glorious 
young  woman  stretched  out  her  hands  to  him. 
His  own  trembled  as  he  took  them. 

"La  Saznte  Vierge  vous  benisse"  he  said. 

She  thanked  him,  sweetly,  as  she  does  all  things, 
and  lifted  his  little  boy  up  in  her  arms,  and  kissed 
him,  tenderly. 

"Je  vous  aime"  declared  the  little  chap. 

"What's  th'  laddie  sayin'  *?"  a  man  asked  me. 

"He  says  he  loves  her,"  I  answered. 

"We  all  does  that,"  he  cried.  "We  all  loves 
every  hair  o'  th'  heads  o'  they." 

Finally  the  crowd  moved  down  towards  the 
cove.  The  flakes  that  had  been  deserted,  that 
morning,  became  tenanted  again  by  an  eager 
crowd,  and  on  the  sharply  slanted  roofs  of  the 


386  SWEETAPPLE  COVE 

little  fish-houses  some  boys  secured  precarious 
perches. 

The  yacht  had  been  warped  to  the  little  dock, 
and  there  was  a  gangplank  over  which  our  three 
dear  friends  went  on  board.  There  was  a  good 
deal  more  of  fervent  handshaking,  and  the  plank 
was  withdrawn.  The  siren  shrieked  its  farewell 
as  the  ship  began  to  move,  and  the  little  gun 
saluted  the  Cove. 

She  moved  out,  slowly  increasing  her  speed, 
and  her  great  white  wings  began  to  unfold  since, 
once  outside,  the  breeze  alone  would  carry  them. 
On  the  rocks  at  the  entrance  stood  men  with  heavy 
sealing  guns,  whose  crashing  detonations  thun- 
dered a  farewell.  The  bits  of  bunting  ran  up 
and  down  the  masts  of  the  little  schooners  at 
anchor,  and  everywhere  gaily  colored  handker- 
chiefs were  fluttering. 

And  so  she  headed  out  into  the  open  sea,  grow- 
ing dimmer  in  the  haze  of  the  glorious  day,  until 
she  passed  out  of  our  vision,  bearing  away  the 
love  and  blessings  of  Sweetapple  Cove. 

THE    END 


